


All Bets Are Off

by PrettiestStar17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2018-09-18 11:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 99,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9381857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettiestStar17/pseuds/PrettiestStar17
Summary: Hermione has harbored a crush on Fred Weasley for years. But that's all it is! A silly, little crush that's lingered from her Hogwarts' years. That's all it is...until one of her best friends, Ginny Weasley, is thrown into a life changing predicament. As she rallies with the rest of the family to help Ginny, Hermione regularly finds herself in Fred's charming company. Perhaps her crush isn't so simple after all? But does Fred feel the same? Even if he does, can he put aside past hurt and open himself up to Hermione? Will their meddling friends help, or hurt, their chances?Disclaimer- Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.





	1. Prologue

April 2002

 

Hermione stood outside her friend and roommate’s door, listening to the heated exchange with tears streaming down her cheeks. Harry Potter’s suitcase stood by the front door of their flat, as he begged for forgiveness and understanding from his fiancé. 

“Doesn’t it mean anything to you that we’re in the middle of planning our wedding?” Ginny sobbed. 

“Of course it does. We’re just encountering a minor setback,” Harry said, attempting to console her.

“You going away for Merlin knows how long is not a MINOR setback! Our wedding is in three months! Will you even be back by then?”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied defeatedly. 

Hermione softly leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. When there was a knock on their door, she had assumed it was the Chinese takeaway she and Ginny had ordered. Instead, it had been Harry, furiously running his hand through his hair. She barely heard him say “Hello” as he strode straight to Ginny’s room. 

“So now I have to owl everyone and let them know the wedding is postponed indefinitely. What about the house?”

“The house is fine. All of that is in order,” Harry assured. “It’s in both of our names so you can move in there as planned.”

“I don’t like the idea of being in that big house, all alone,” Ginny protested.

“Then just move my stuff in by the end of June so my landlord can let my flat out.” There was a pause in conversation and all Hermione could hear was muffled sobs. She imagined that Harry had gathered Ginny into his arms and was letting her cry out her frustration into his chest.

“I’m so sorry Gin. Believe me, Ron and I tried like mad to get out of this assignment. But there was no way around it. Plans have already been set in motion and if we don’t go, a lot of lives are at stake.”

Harry and Ron had been Aurors with the Ministry’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement for four years now. After the war, it didn’t take them long to get inducted and rise through the ranks. Over the years, they’d had many assignments that took them away from home for stretches of time, but usually for no more than two weeks at a time. 

This assignment was different though. They were tapped to help infiltrate and take down a group of dark wizards abroad. They wouldn’t know where they would be until they got there and, once they were there, they would be cut off from all forms of communication. No owls out or in. With no set end date for the placement, it could prove to be a while before they were heard from again.

After packing his suitcase as quickly as possible, Harry had rushed over to say goodbye to Ginny. Hermione was certain that Ron had packed up and went to spend his last few moments saying goodbye to his parents.

“I promise we will try to get this done as quickly as possible,” she heard Harry say. “None of us like the situation, but we have no choice. Promise you’ll wait for me?”

“Of course I’ll wait for you, you prat.” A giggle escaped and Hermione smiled when she heard Ginny swat his arm. 

Hermione tiptoed to the living room, letting them have the last few minutes of privacy. She started pacing the worn out Oriental rug and mindlessly chewing her fingernails. What was she going to do without her best friends around? Even when they had been on assignments before, they were able to send out one or two owls, reassuring her and Ginny that they were fine and would be home soon. 

Her pacing ceased when Harry and Ginny came out of her room. Without saying anything, Hermione ran and threw her arms around Harry.

“I”m sorry Min,” Harry whispered, squeezing her tight.

“I know,” Hermione sniffled. “Just promise that you two will take care of yourselves. Don’t do anything reckless and stupid.”

“Reckless and stupid? Just who do you think I am?”

“I know exactly who you are, Harry Potter.” She patted his chest and smiled sadly. “Take care of yourself and tell Ron we said goodbye.” She brushed tears from her eyes and let him go.

Harry nodded and turned back to Ginny, pulling her in for a final embrace and kiss. “I love you,” he said, through choked breath. He kissed her forehead, picked up his suitcase and, with a quick crack of apparition, Harry was gone. 

Ginny fell to the floor, crying loudly and uncontrollably. Hermione sat down beside her and took her hand. Not quite knowing what to say to her heartbroken friend, Hermione leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder and let Ginny cry, while her own tears silently fell.


	2. Chapter 2

June 2002

 

Hermione limped up the cobbled street of Diagon Alley. Just a few more feet and she would feel the blessed relief of a chair. The blisters on her feet were squealing with each step she took and she was pretty sure a small pool of blood had gathered at her toes.

“Bloody new shoes,” she muttered, dodging a witch that couldn’t see over the top of a stack of robe boxes in her arms.

All she had wanted to do after that day was get back to her flat and soak in the tub for the rest of the evening. Every inch of her body was sore and begging for stillness. But, at three-thirty, she had received a note from Ginny telling (not asking) her to meet her at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes as soon as she was done with work.

With one final feat of strength, Hermione threw herself through the door of number ninety-three, startling Fred and the two customers at the till.

“Try not to get caught,” Fred said with a wink, as he handed the bag to a young boy. The boy grinned and ran out of the shop, his friend at his heels. “You look like you’ve seen better days, Miss Granger,” Fred commented, playfully tugging at a curl that had escaped her bun.

“You have no idea,” Hermione groaned, struggling to pull herself onto the stool behind the counter. “It’s been a horrible day. We’re in a joke shop, make me smile.”

“Close your eyes and pucker up,” Fred joked.

Hermione did as she was told, but was met with nothing but air. “Just as I thought,” she sighed. “All talk, no action.”

“I’ll flip that sign right now and show you action, if that’s what you want.” Fred arched an eyebrow, his brown eyes twinkling.

Hermione laughed and shook her head. Every now and then it was moments like that, that reignited her teenage crush. Both twins could charm the pants off a witch, but Hermione was always particularly drawn to Fred. She kept that little secret tucked securely away though. Even Ginny didn’t know about that particular crush.

“What I really want is a new pair of feet,” Hermione replied, gingerly bending down to take off her shoes.

“New feet, aisle three,” George Weasley called, coming in from the stockroom. He looked down as Hermione finally freed her foot from a treacherous shoe. “Bloody hell, Hermione! What have you done to yourself?”

“Broke in a pair of new shoes today.” Hermione inspected her right foot. It was swollen and dried blood was caked along both sides from where her blister had popped, and subsequently been rubbed raw.

“No, darling. Those shoes broke you.” Fred stared at the offending appendage in disgust. “The other one look the same?”

“If not worse,” Hermione moaned, reaching for the second shoe.

“I’ll get you something for them. Want a drink? We have Butterbeer and pumpkin juice. I’m pretty sure there’s a bottle of Firewhiskey stashed back there too, it you’d like something stronger.”

“Pumpkin juice is fine, thank you,” Hermione said. She wrenched off the shoe and bit her lip so she wouldn’t let out a scream of pain.

Fred returned with her drink and two towels that were soaked in a sweet smelling solution. “Our own personal, homemade remedy,” he explained, wrapping a towel around each foot. “Should take care of all those aches and pains, while healing up those blisters.”

“Oh sweet Merlin,” Hermione sighed, grasping the sides of the stool so that she didn’t melt off. The towels were soft and warm, immediately relieving the swelling. “Can you just wrap my whole body in this?”

“I will flip the sign and lock the door anytime you want sweetheart,” Fred laughed.

“I am just so glad this day is over.” Without asking if they even wanted to hear about her day, Hermione started venting about endless meetings, the new House Elves Rights act that she was trying to pass, a multitude of boring reports that buried her desk, and a brutish co-worker that kept overstepping his boundaries. “If he brushes up against my chest one more time in the lift, I’ll jinx him into the next century.”

“I’d like tickets to that event,” George laughed. He picked up Hermione’s shoes and asked, “Shall I bin these for you?”

“I’ve only worn them once!”

“And look what they’ve done to you! Why did you buy these atrocious things anyway?”

“They’re not atrocious, they’re cute!” Hermione defended. “I got them because they went perfectly with this outfit.” She smoothed out her violet pencil skirt, trying to prove her point.

“They’re caked in your own blood and misery,” Fred said, wearily.

Hermione pursed her lips and nodded. “Bin ‘em,” she finally decided, jerking her head towards the garbage. George unceremoniously dropped them into the can with a loud clang.

With Harry being gone, Ginny had been throwing herself deeper into Quidditch. Hermione dreaded going home to an empty flat, so she started seeking out other company. To her surprise, the twins were more than willing to provide it. What had started off as occasionally dropping by on days that Ginny was off in Wales with the Harpies, turned into almost daily visits to the shop and standing dinner dates on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when she got out of work early. Hermione was surprised to realize one day that she spent at least half her week with the two Weasley men.

Since the war ended, Hermione hated being on her own. Nighttime was especially tough. The first year after it all, she lived at the Burrow until Ginny had finished her seventh year. Then they rented a flat together, just on the outskirts of London. She still woke from the occasional nightmare at times, but she’d pad down the hall and listen to Ginny’s breathing, reassuring herself that she wasn’t alone. The last two months had been rough though. Her nightmares were coming more frequently and with Ginny gone, she found herself sleeping on the couch with the television on for reassurance. She didn’t know what she would do once Harry returned and her roommate moved out for good.

Hermione sighed and took the clip out of her hair, letting her curls loose. She smoothed them back, trying to get them to lay as flat as possible.

“So do either of you know what Ginny wanted to meet us for?” she asked, sipping her juice.

“No clue,” the brothers chorused.

“Maybe she’s finally heard something about Harry and Ron,” Fred suggested hopefully.

“It looks like we’re about to find out,” George said, pointing out the window. Hermione followed his gesture and sure enough, a redhead could be seen weaving a path to the shop.

A minute later, the bell above the door chimed and Ginny strode up to the counter, tossing her purse on top.

Before anyone could give her a greeting, she blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

Three faces stared at her in shock, not knowing how to respond to that news. Finally Fred flicked his wand at the door and the lock clicked into place, with the sign flipping to CLOSED.

“I think I’ll take that stronger drink now,” Hermione said meekly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“You’re completely sure?” George asked for the hundredth time.

“Yes!” Ginny cried in exasperation. “I was just at the healer’s office and got the official results.” She sat on the edge of her seat, rolling a mug of tea between her hands.

The four had made their way up to Fred and George’s flat above the shop where Ginny told them more about the baby on the way. She was already two and a half months along, putting her due date just after the new year. When she first started feeling sick, she thought it was nerves from Harry leaving. Then when she missed her cycle, she figured it was all the added stress and thought nothing about it. It had finally hit her that morning that she was several weeks late and booked the first appointment she could with a healer to have her suspicions confirmed.

“And you’re sure it’s Potter’s?” Fred joked.

Ginny did not see the humor in his question though, and chucked a Quidditch magazine at his head. He ducked just in time and the magazine skidded across the kitchen floor. Hermione grimaced and picked it up, placing it on a side table.

“Come and eat,” she urged, placing a plate of toasted cheese sandwiches and bowls of tomato soup on the table.

The three Weasleys obliged and gathered around the table. Hermione took her own seat, grabbing a sandwich as the boys piled three sandwiches a piece onto their plates. Ginny took one, but just started picking at the crust.

“What am I going to do?” Ginny croaked, a few tears sliding down her cheek.

“Looks like you’re going to be a mum,” George said, smiling.

Ginny let out a irritated cry. “You know what I mean! This isn’t how it’s supposed to be! I’m supposed to be married and in a proper house before even thinking about kids. At the very least, I should be telling the father first, not you lot!” She angrily bit off a chunk of her sandwich.

“We love you too, sis,” Fred chided.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Ginny sighed. “It’s not even the fact that I’m expecting before being married. Mum might care about that, but I don’t. It’s the fact that I don’t even have a guarantee that Harry will be back here by January. What if….what if I have to do this alone?”

Hermione rushed to hug her friend. Squeezing Ginny tightly, Hermione consoled her. “No matter what, you won’t be doing anything alone. We’re all here for you, whatever you need.”

George got up and came over to plant a kiss on his sister’s head. “Min’s right, of course. Since when has a Weasley done anything alone?”

“Yeah, being alone in this family isn’t usually an option,” Fred added, stuffing the last half a grilled cheese in his mouth and starting on another one.

“Has anyone told you how charming your table manners are?” Hermione said, shooting him a disgruntled look. Fred grinned at her with puffed up cheeks.

“Thanks guys,” Ginny said, wiping her sleeve across her nose. “Any advice on how to tell Mum and Dad?”

The twins quickly shut up, eyes going wide. They weren’t scared of much, but even at twenty-four years old, they still feared the wrath of Molly Weasley.

“Your parents are going to handle it fine. There will be an initial shock, but I’m sure, more than anything, they’ll be over the moon at the thought of another grandchild,” Hermione reassured, rubbing Ginny’s shoulder. “And whenever you decide to tell them, we’ll all be right there beside you.” Hermione shot the boys expectant looks.

“Course we will be, Gin,” Fred said, nodding. “You just let us know the time and place and we’ll be there.”

“How about Sunday dinner, this weekend?”

Hermione saw the twins gulp, but they kept their faces passive as they agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The following Sunday, Ginny and Hermione apparated to the Burrow together. Hermione breathed in the heavenly smell of roast beef, roasted potatoes, homemade bread, and brussel sprouts. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation of dinner.

Along with Molly and Arthur, Percy and his wife, Audrey, were there with Bill, Fleur, and their daughter Victoire. The tiny three year old ran for Hermione and Ginny as soon as they stepped through the door.

“Auntie Gin! Auntie Min!” Victoire squealed, launching herself towards Ginny. Hermione scooped her up at the last minute, causing her to giggle. Ginny gave Hermione a relieved smile as she reached over to tickle the wriggling little blonde. Victoire was the one who had given Hermione the nickname Min. When she was learning to talk, she couldn’t say Hermione’s full name, but she could say Gin for Ginny. So Hermione became ‘Min’ and the nickname stuck in the family, even as Victoire’s speech got clearer.

“How is my favorite little girl?” Hermione asked, kissing Victoire’s cheek.

“I’m coworing a hippogwiff with Uncle Percy!”

Hermione glanced at the table where Percy was concentrating over a coloring book that looked as though it was created by Hagrid. A bright, rainbow colored Hippogriff clashed brilliantly with Percy’s detailed picture of a Phoenix.

“That is beautiful!” Hermione gushed. “I bet Mémé Molly hangs that on the icebox.” She set the proud toddler back down beside her uncle and turned to Molly. “Anything I can help with?”

“Would you mind setting the table, dear?” Molly asked, handing a set of plates and cutlery to Hermione.

“Of course not.” She shooed the budding artists to the living room and started setting out the plates. “No Charlie today?” she inquired, counting out the settings.

“No, he’s traveling to Norway for two weeks. A clutch of Ridgeback eggs were found abandoned and they’re trying to save them them.” Molly inspected the table and gave it an approving nod. “We just need Fred and George and then we’ll be ready.”

“I’m going to go use the loo and wash up quick.”

Hermione climbed the stairs to the second floor. After using the toilet, she inspected her reflection while washing her hands. She frowned and pressed a damp finger against an angry red spot on her chin. Maybe one of the boys would let her grab some of their pimple vanishing cream from the shop so she didn’t have to go into work with what looked like a second chin.

She started fixing a few out of place hairs when someone pounded on the door. “Just a sec!” she called. Grading her appearance as Acceptable, she opened the door. Her heart skipped a beat when she came face to face with Fred, who was ready to knock again. “Sorry, hope you weren’t waiting long,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too flustered.

“I was debating whether I’d have to go have a piss out the window.” Fred answered, making Hermione smile, despite the disturbing image he had just painted. “Ooh, what’s that?” He reached up towards Hermione’s pimple.

She swatted his hand away and glared at him. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to point out a lady’s spots?”

“That’s not a spot. It looks like you’re trying to grow a unicorn horn in the wrong place.”

“You’re impossible. Let me out.”

Hermione stepped to her right, just as Fred stepped to his left. Each tried to correct themselves, stepping to the other side. They continued this dance for another few steps before Fred held up his hand.

“Stop.” He grasped her waist and circled around until he was in the bathroom and Hermione was in the hall. “Apparate home with me and I’ll help you sort out your horn.” He winked before closing the door.

Hermione stood rooted to the floor. Her hips still tingled from his touch and her heart was fluttering from his wink. She thought she was over this crush. How could he continue to have this effect on her, after all these years? The sudden flushing of the toilet broke her from her thoughts and sent her dashing down the steps, not wanting to be caught still standing outside the loo when Fred came back out.

She took a seat at the table, beside Ginny, just as Fred entered the kitchen, wiping his hands on his trousers. George sat on the other side of Ginny and Fred took the seat across from Hermione.

Molly started dishing out generous helpings of food onto everyone’s plates. Once everyone was satisfactorily tucking into their dinner, Molly took her place beside Arthur and started her inquiry into her children’s lives.

“It feels like forever since we’ve all been together like this. How has everyone been?” Everyone nodded their response, their mouths stuffed with food. “Boys, the shop doing well?”

“Yep,” George answered, after a swallow. “Business is booming as usual. We’re losing our bookkeeper though. She’s gotten a new job at Gringotts and just gave us her two weeks notice.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find a quick replacement. An advertisement in the Prophet should be able to fill that slot quickly,” Arthur reassured.

“I’ll do it,” Hermione offered, before she could think twice,

The twins looked at her, eyes wide in surprise, but grins on their faces.

“Really?” Fred asked.

“Sure. I’ll come by on the weekends and balance everything.”

“You’re a lifesaver Min!” George sighed. “We’ll have to give you a key.”

Arthur turned his attention to Hermione and asked, “How is everything in your department? Are you getting anywhere with your House Elves bill?”

“It’s coming along. Very slowly, but we’re getting there.”

“What about you, Ginny dear? How is the team coming along this season?” Molly asked, spooning a second helping of brussel sprouts onto Bill’s plate. Hermione heard Ginny take a deep breath, and she gave her friend’s knee a reassuring pat under the table.

“It’s going well. I have to take a leave of absence though,” Ginny said slowly.

“Why? Are you ill?” Molly reached across the table and felt her daughter’s forehead.

“No, not ill,” Ginny insisted, waving her mum’s hand away. “I’m going to have a baby.”

The only sound was forks clattering onto plates. Ginny chewed on her bottom lip, watching her mother’s myriad of expressions. Fred and George quickly looked between the two, waiting for someone to say something. Hermione held onto Ginny’s hand, keeping her gaze on her plate.

“Another baby?” Molly finally whispered. Hermione looked up and saw tears streaming down Molly’s cheeks. “I’m going to be a grandma again?”

Ginny nodded and Molly squealed, jumping out of her chair. She pulled George from his and gathered Ginny up in her arms.

“You’re not mad?” Ginny asked in astonishment.

“Who could be mad about a baby?” Molly cried, holding Ginny’s face between her hands and kissing her forehead. “It may be a bit unconventional and not the most ideal situation, but it’s a baby!”

With Molly’s reaction solidified, congratulations rang out around the table. Ginny was pulled from one hug to another.

“I know it’ll be hard without Harry here, but don’t you worry about a thing,” Molly insisted, sitting back down. “We’ll make sure everything is moved into the new place and ready for the little bundle. When will he or she be arriving?”

“Early January,” Ginny answered.

“New year, new baby,” Arthur said joyfully.

The rest of the evening went smoothly. After dessert, Fred,George, and Bill took Victoire flying around the orchard. Percy and Audrey headed home, while Hermione, Fleur, and Molly sat with Ginny, tentatively planning out the next six months. With some coaxing, Ginny agreed to move into the new house, with or without Harry.

“It does make the most sense,” Hermione conceded. “I love having you as a roommate, but the flat isn’t really a place for a baby. You’ll definitely be more comfortable with a proper nursery and more space.”

“And of course someone will stay with you as long as you need,” Fleur assured.

“I think the biggest thing to focus on is taking everything one day at a time,” Molly said, patting Ginny’s hand. “I know you’ll be able to handle whatever comes.”

As the evening came to a close, the boys came back down to earth and put their broomsticks away. Bill and Fleur carried off a yawning Victoire, agreeing to meet the following weekend to move Harry’s things into the new house. Hermione, Ginny, and the twins bid Molly and Arthur farewell and headed out to the back garden to apparate.

“I do believe I promised a certain lady some cosmetic assistance,” Fred said, holding out his arm to Hermione.

Hermione gripped his forearm, letting Ginny know she’d be back home shortly. Fred turned quickly on the spot and within seconds, they were standing in the middle of the shop. She let go of his arm as he made his way towards their Wonder Witch products. He came back with a small tube of Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher.

“A dab of this should do the trick.” He handed Hermione the cream and headed behind the counter to the till. He unlocked the drawer and pulled out a set of keys. “Here you are madame. Your official set of keys. Gold one is for the shop and the silver one is for the flat.”

“Why do I need one for your flat?”

“You never know when an occasion may arise.” He grinned and gave her a wave. “G’night Min,” he called, before disappearing behind the stockroom curtain.


	3. Chapter 3

July 2002

 

Hermione jogged up the empty street to the joke shop. It was nine o’clock on a Saturday night and most of the shops had been closed for hours. Fred and George were out for the evening, at a Quidditch match, and Hermione figured she’d take advantage of the quiet store to go balance their books. She had been doing the job for three weeks now and, while she enjoyed it, the task took twice as long if the twins were there. Inevitably the three would end up talking, goofing off, and ordering in dinner. Admittedly, it wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening.

She let herself into the shop, quickly locking it again behind her. Kicking her trainers off at the counter, she bent down to the second shelf to grab the ledger and receipts only to find it empty.

“Where in the world could it be?” Hermione muttered to herself. She sifted around the other shelves, coming up empty. She made her way back to the stock room, lighting the lamps and looking around for the familiar purple leather book. As she reached up to a top shelf, a loose jar of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder toppled off. The jar went crashing to the floor and she was plummeted into darkness, and a sudden coughing fit.

It took several minutes for the powder to dissipate and allow Hermione to see again. Deciding that the book was nowhere in the shop, she dug the keys from her pocket as she climber the stairs to the brothers’ flat. She unlocked the door, stepped inside, and was immediately aware that she was not alone.

Pleasurable moans filled the room. A pair of long, brown legs were sticking up from the sofa. Bright red hair and a blindingly white bum were bobbing against the legs.

“Oh jeez! I-I-I’m sorry!” Hermione squeaked, turning quickly and bolting back down the steps before she could register which twin she had just interrupted.

She leaned against the counter, trying to get her breathing back to normal. Whether it had been Fred or George, it didn’t seem like she had thrown a wrench into the works. No one came barreling after her, so she patiently waited for the couple to finish up. As she waited, she desperately attempted shut up the voice in her head that kept pleading for it to not be Fred.

Twenty minutes later, footsteps could finally be heard on the stairs. A very casual George Weasley sauntered through the curtain, wearing nothing but a pair of green pajama bottoms. Hermione’s heart gave a little leap seeing his mischievous grin. It wasn’t her twin! Wait, her twin? She shook her head vigorously. She didn’t _have_ a twin.

“Sorry about that Hermione,” George said, leaning against the wall. “Wasn’t expecting visitors tonight.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. Very sorry,” she murmured. “I should have knocked before I came in. I just thought you were at the Quidditch match and came by to do the bookkeeping. The ledger isn’t down here though, hence why I unknowingly barged in on your moment.”

“It’s alright. You didn’t interrupt anything. The Quidditch match got boring, so Ang and I buggered off early to make our own fun.” George jerked his head toward the stockroom. “Come on up. I think my git of a brother took the ledger up with him today and forgot to put it back.”

“How did he feel about you ditching him to go have shag?” Hermione asked, following him up the steps.

“Eh, he’s used to it. It’s not like he’s alone anyway.” George opened the door and pointed to the kitchen table. “There it be.”

Hermione walked to the table, trying to keep her face expressionless. “Who’s he with?”

“An adorable witch named Cara, from Gringotts. Bill set him up.”

“Adorable, huh?” Hermione whispered. She couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. She hated when she let herself get into these cycles. It was during the summer, before her fourth year, that she started taking notice of Fred Weasley. At that time he was in his sixth year and, while he was always nice to Hermione, she knew he saw her as nothing more than Ron’s best friend that came around for holidays. So, she kept a lid on her feelings and admired him from afar.

Since then, she’d had a few relationships. It wasn’t a continuous eight year period where she had noticed no one but Fred. But somehow she always came back around to him. Usually her crush came roaring back for just a little bit, like when she spent an odd extended weekend at the Burrow. Then, it would quietly retreat back into the shadows of her subconscious. With Harry and Ron’s absences though, the twins had stepped in and filled the void her best friends had left. Consequently, her infatuation with Fred had also stepped up a notch.

“You okay Min?” George asked, shooting her a puzzled look.

“Yeah, of course.” Hermione pulled herself from her thoughts and opened up the ledger. “Do you happen to have a quill and ink handy? I’ll get this sorted and be out of your hair for the evening.”

George continued to study her as her grabbed a quill and inkwell from the desk. “There’s no rush. It’s a Saturday night, why would you want to work? Freddy should be home soon. I’ll go get pizza and we’ll make the most of the rest of the night.”

“I really should be getting home after these books.”

“For what? Ten galleons says my sister is already asleep and dead to the world. Stay and hang out with us!”

“She was already half asleep when I left. Poor thing can barely make it to ten o’clock anymore.”

“Growing a whole other human really takes it out of you.”

Hermione sighed defeatedly. “Alright, if you let me get my work done I’ll stay for a bit tonight. Go get the pizza.” George whooped and ran to the single bedroom he and Fred shared. “Remember, I don’t like peppers on mine!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he called back. A minute later he reappeared in jeans, tugging a wrinkled t-shirt over his head. “I’ll make sure to get a ham and pineapple one for you and the other weirdo. Back in a flash.” With a crack, he was gone.

Hermione pulled her hair back into a messy bun and got her glasses from her purse. Years of reading by wand light had finally taken its toll and she had to give in and get reading glasses. With the flat silent, she was able to work quickly. She was tallying up the final sums when a familiar whistling echoed in the stairwell.

“Clothes on, I’m coming in!” Fred yelled. He opened the door and looked around confusedly when he saw the sitting room empty. He finally spied Hermione at the table and grinned. “Min! Wasn’t expecting to see you tonight. In your case, clothing optional.”

“I’m good as is, thanks.” Hermione ducked her head in the book as a blush flooded her face.

“Where is my dear brother?” he asked, poking his head into the dark bedroom.

“Went out to grab pizza. He should be back soon.”

“Is he getting—“

“Of course.”

“Excellent! I still don’t understand how he can’t appreciate the brilliant combo of ham and pineapple? Sweet and salty, can’t go wrong.” Fred slipped into the chair across from her. “So what brings you to our humble abode this evening?”

“Just finishing up the books.” Hermione scratched out the last few numbers and closed the ledger. “I have a bone to pick with you,” she said, giving him her best menacing look.

“What’d I do this time? Did you come across the Canary Cream we slipped into your cream puffs?”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake Fred,” she groaned. “You better hope your pregnant sister doesn’t get to it first or you won’t be alive to see your new niece or nephew. No, I’m talking about you leaving the ledger up here today. I came by, planning to have a nice quiet evening curled up on the comfy stockroom couch, with a nicked Butterbeer, and balance these books. But instead I had to come up here and catch your brother mid shag!”

“Ooooh, damn. For that, I am truly sorry. No one should be subjected to that,” Fred said with a grimace.

“It’s gonna be quite some time before I can get the image of his pasty arse out of my head.” Hermione shook her head, trying to shake the memory away.

“It won’t erase the need for extensive therapy, but dinner Tuesday is on me.” Fred leaned back in his seat and, in his attempt to cross his legs, kicked the table and sent the open inkwell flying. His face froze in horror as black ink dripped down Hermione’s baby blue t-shirt.

“Seriously? What horrible atrocity have I committed against you today?” Hermione huffed. She tried to scourgify the ink away, but was still left with a damp, black stain in the middle of her shirt.

“I’m so so so sorry Hermione!” Fred ran to the closet and returned with a clear glass jar filled with blue powder, and a bucket. He poured some powder into the bucket, filled it with water, and instantly heated it up. “Take your shirt off and let it soak in this. I’ll lend you one of my shirts.”

“This night is not going any way that I had planned,” Hermione muttered. Fred turned to go as she grasped the hem of her shirt, pulling it up over her head. Tossing the shirt into the bucket, she saw Fred was still just standing there, watching her. She arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms across her chest. “This isn’t a peep show!”

“Sorry!” He stumbled a bit before scurrying to the bedroom.

“Looks like it’s my turn to interrupt,” a voice called from behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fred popped his head out of the bedroom to see his brother grinning at a beet red Hermione. Letting his gaze linger longer than he should’ve, he saw that her blush didn’t end at her cheeks, but reached all the way down her chest. She hugged herself tighter as George playfully tugged at her hair.

“Sometime this millennium Fred!” Hermione yelled.

Jumping back, Fred pulled his old Beater jersey from a drawer. Returning to the kitchen, he handed the shirt to Hermione and relieved George of the pizza boxes.

“What happened to Cara?” George asked, pulling a slice of pepper and mushroom pizza from the box. Hermione tried to hand him a plate, but George waved it away. Fred smirked as she muttered ‘uncivilized heathens’ under her breath.

“I dropped her off and said good riddance,” Fred replied, accepting Hermione’s plate offering.

“Sounds a bit rude,” Hermione said, pulling a slice of their Hawaiian pizza onto her plate.

“I didn’t say that exactly,” Fred said, flopping into an armchair and taking a bite. “I told her that while the evening had been very nice, I didn’t foresee a second date in our future.”

“Why? She was cute!” George exclaimed. He and Hermione sat down on opposite sides of the couch. Fred summoned bottles of beer from the icebox and they flew over to the coffee table.

“Cute, but so dull. We had absolutely nothing in common,” Fred explained. “She liked books—“

“And what’s wrong with liking books?” Hermione interrupted. She gave him a peculiar look of disappointment.

“No, she really liked books. Wouldn’t stop talking about them, throughout the whole match. I like a good read as much as the next person, but I swear she sat there and detailed every single novel she had ever read. Plus, she didn’t get any of my jokes and didn’t seem to find anything funny, unless it reminded her of a scene from a book. Opposites attract only so much. I can’t be with a girl that I can’t make laugh.” Fred stuffed the last chunk of pizza into his mouth, catching Hermione’s stare from the corner of his eye.

“You don’t need to have anything in common to—“

Hermione threw a pillow at George’s head before he could finish his cheeky statement.

“And she definitely needs to be able to make me laugh,” Fred concluded with a chuckle. “So, Hermione, do you still keep in touch with old Viktor Krum?”

“I can’t imagine why you would ask me that,” she answered, shooting him a knowing look.

“It’s just been a while since we’ve heard from our favorite Seeker.”

“Don’t let Harry hear you say something like that,” Hermione warned. “Your sudden interest in Viktor wouldn’t happen to be correlated to Bulgaria playing in the World Cup next month, would it?”

“How dare you think such a thing?” George exclaimed, clasping his hand over his chest.

“We would never!” Fred cried.

“But now that _you_ brought it up…” George started.

“We were just curious…” Fred said suggestively.

Hermione smiled, yet said nothing and went to the kitchen for more pizza.

“Miiiin?” Fred jumped up and followed her. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“What makes you think I’m hiding something?”

“Because you’ve been hanging around us too much and appear to have adopted our ‘up to something’ look,” Fred accused.

Hermione sighed, put her plate down, and grabbed her purse. She pulled out a maroon envelope, quickly shoving it behind her back when Fred made a grab for it. He reached out and tickled her ribs.

“Fred Weasley! Stop it!” she squealed, stepping back and attempting to bat him away. He tickled her again until she was backed up against the counter.

“Let me see it,” Fred said, hands hovering at her sides.

“And if I don’t?” She looked up at him, blowing wisps of hair from her face.

Fred froze for a second as her hazel eyes stared at him. He had a sudden urge to—

“That’s when I swoop in.” George suddenly appeared and plucked the envelope from her hands.

Hermione didn’t fight back. She continued staring at Fred, biting her bottom lip. Deciding it best not to let on what he had been about to do with that bottom lip, Fred took a step back and gave her space to move past him.

“He already gave you four tickets?!” George shouted. Fred turned around to see his brother ogling a set of tickets.

“Yes,” Hermione said breathlessly. She finally pushed herself away from the counter and stalked over to George. “I had this whole surprise planned for you guys and you just had to go and be nosey.” She snatched back the envelope and tickets. “Viktor sent them to me last week and told me that he hoped I’d be able to make it to Egypt for the game.”

“You’re of course going to take your favorite Beaters to the game, right?” Fred asked, peering over Hermione’s shoulder at the coveted pieces of parchment. World Cup tickets had sold out within one day. He and George never stood a chance at getting a pair.

“Against my better judgement,” she said, looking over her shoulder. She attempted to look exasperated, but he caught the smile twitching at her lips.

The twins gave a whoop and sandwiched Hermione in a hug.

“We’ll take the mother-to-be along for one last big trip also,” Hermione said, breaking away to put the tickets back in her purse. “I’ve already booked our hotel rooms. I went ahead and reserved them for the whole weekend, just in case the match goes long.”

“We love you Auntie Min!” the brothers chorused.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Hermione sighed, digging into her second slice. She looked up at Fred and grinned from behind the cheese.

It wasn’t long before the pizza and beer ran out and their conversation had cycled from Quidditch, to the joke shop, to Hermione’s hope for an upcoming promotion within the Ministry, to the new member of the family that would be arriving in the new year.

“Think Potter’ll be back by then?” George pondered. He had stretched out on the couch, with his feet lying in Hermione’s lap.

“Of course, he has to be,” Fred insisted. He tried to avoid watching as Hermione aimlessly stroked his twin’s foot.

Hermione’s lip faded into a thin, worried line. “I don’t know. It’s been three months now. They’ve never been gone this long before. I honestly don’t know how Ginny’s keeping it together as well as she is.”

“Are you worried about them?” Fred asked.

“I try not to be,” Hermione answered. He could see her eyes glisten over. “I know if anything went wrong, we’d hear about it right away. But it still doesn’t mean I don’t have a panic attack every time an unknown owl comes to the flat, or a sudden, unexpected memo shows up on my desk. Harry and Ron are both exceptionally capable Aurors and I keep reminding myself that if anyone can get this job done, it’s them. I just have a feeling that this is going to drag on longer than anyone expected.” Hermione wiped her eyes and gave a quick sniffle. “On that note, I think it’s about time I head home.”

“Already?” George whined.

“Already?” Hermione laughed. She patted his feet and he swung them onto the floor. “It’s past midnight. I need to get to bed and hope you haven’t saddled me with more nightmares!”

“If it helps, just tell yourself it’s Fred. We look the same everywhere,” George said with a wink.

“Oh, Merlin,” Hermione moaned, covering her face.

Fred jumped up and swayed drunkenly for a second before regaining his composure. “You okay to apparate? Hate to see you splinch yourself. Can always kip on the couch if you need,” he offered.

Hermione shook her head, smiling as her red face slowly returned to its normal color. “I had one drink the entire evening. You two are the ones that made your way through the lager.”

“That would explain why there’s two of you.”

“Thanks for the offer though.” She reached out and gave him a hug. Fred let his hands linger around her waist a second or two longer than he would usually. “I’ll see you guys for dinner on Tuesday.” She gingerly moved his hands from her waist, back to his side. A quick hug for George and she was gone with a loud crack.

Fred started gathering up the plates and bottles, carting them into the kitchen.

“Well, that was interesting,” George said, sauntering into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter and arched his eyebrows at Fred.

“What was interesting?” He placed the plates in the sink and started breaking down the pizza boxes.

“Those little looks you and Hermione were sharing all night.”

Fred felt the back of his neck grow hot, but shook his head. “Few too many beers there, Georgie.”

“No, they were definitely happening before the beers. I saw how you looked at her when she was standing there topless.”

“She wasn’t topless,” Fred muttered. He remembered Hermione’s shirt, still soaking in the laundry soap, and went to take it out.

“Okay, nearly topless. I don’t blame you though, of course. She’s quite easy on the eyes.” George started chucking bottles into the bin, one by one.

“Remember who you’re talking about. This is Hermione Granger, the girl our little brother used to have a crush on.”

“Yes, but now she’s Hermione Granger, the _woman_ that kept catching your eye all evening.”

Fred ignored his brother’s wheedling and took the shirt into the bathroom to rinse it out. He knew if he stayed out there any longer his face would give away the fact that he had felt a few unexpected sparks that evening. He kept trying to put it down as his sexual frustration making nothing into something, since his date hadn’t gone as planned. But truth was, the dismal date with Cara hadn’t frustrated him at all. What had been frustrating was being inches away from Hermione’s full lips and having not made a move. He shook the thought from his mind, hung the shirt to dry, and went back to the kitchen.

“It wasn’t just you though,” George continued. “She was letting off her own little signals all night.”

“Like what?”

“Like after she walked in on Ang and me, she seemed very relieved when she saw it was me, and not you, coming into the shop. Almost like she couldn’t stand the thought of seeing you with another girl.”

Fred snorted. “You got all that from a look?”

“I’m very perceptive,” George said, waving his hand nonchalantly. “I say go for it. You need a roll in the hay.”

“Yes, a one night stand with Hermione Granger is the perfect plan.” Fred tossed a box at George, who lazily batted it away. “I’ve become quite attached to my bollocks over the years, thank you very much.”

“It doesn’t have to be a one night stand. You never know what could happen.”

“And that is exactly why Hermione is off limits,” Fred insisted. With a sigh, he ran his hands through his hair. “ _Even IF_ I were to take that chance, there’s every chance things wouldn’t work out. Been there, done that. I’m not ruining another friendship.”

“She’s not Katie,” George started.

“No, she’s very different. We’ve gotten close to her in these last few months, and I don’t want to jeopardize that for a stupid shag.”

“Suit yourself. I don’t want to hear you complaining then, about going months without a proper lay.”

“It has been months…” Fred groaned.

“Ah! Don’t want to hear it,” George called, walking to the bedroom.

Fred plopped down in a kitchen chair and let his head hit the table with a thud. Of all the people to go and catch feelings for…


	4. Chapter 4

August 2002

 

Hermione apparated to the stock room of Wizard Wheezes. From beyond the curtain, she could hear the twins conversing with early morning customers. She slipped out into the shop to find a woman waiting at the till, but no one behind the counter.

“Hi there,” Hermione greeted, scurrying to the register. “Was there anything else you needed help finding this morning?” The lady smiled and shook her head. Hermione rung up her purchase and bid her farewell. She did the same for several others while Fred and George rushed about the shop, helping the browsing customers, every few minutes nipping behind the curtain to bring out more stock.

“Quite the Monday morning rush,” Hermione commented, dropping a galleon and three sickles into the tray as the boys made their way back to the counter.

“Thanks for the reinforcement there, Min,” George sighed.

“Doesn’t Lee usually help you out on Mondays?”

“Yeah, but he’s coming in late today. Has to help his grandfather with something or other,” Fred explained.

“Something or other,” Hermione laughed. “Nice to see you two pay attention. I just wanted to stop by and say goodbye. I need to be off or I’ll be late.” She ducked back behind the curtain and grabbed her suitcase.

“Goodbye? Where are you going?” Fred called. Hermione came back to the counter and was surprised to see his face a bit crestfallen.

“Egypt, remember?” Both boys gave her blank looks. “I told you the other week that I was going to go there early and have bit of a vacation.”

“Are you sure? You didn’t do one of those moves where you think you told us, but never actually mentioned it?” George said.

“Who do you think I am? Ron?” Hermione asked in exasperation. “No, I specifically remember telling you the other week, after I finished the bookkeeping. Viktor invited me to spend a few extra days over there, to visit and catch up, so I took some extra vacation days. Does any of this ring a bell?”

“Nope,” George said, slapping the counter. “But have fun! Give Viktor our best.”

Hermione started to laugh, but stopped quickly when she saw Fred’s serious face.

“Everything okay Fred?”

Her question seemed to give him a jolt. He nodded quickly and mumbled a quick, “Yeah, fine.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll see you guys in four days.”

“Of course, no, I was just thinking about other things,” Fred said, waving her off. He slumped off to a corner and started restocking their fireworks section.

“Did I do something?” Hermione asked, turning to George. She had been hoping for a nicer send off than the mopey one she was receiving.

“Existential crisis, I believe. He’ll be fine by this weekend.” George pulled her in for a hug and then walked her to the door. “Go on, have fun. We’ll be joining you soon enough.”

“Bye Fred!” she called. She was replied to with half hearted muttering. “Check in on Ginny for me,” Hermione added, opening the door.

“Yup, will do. Off now, or you’ll miss that portkey.” George nudged her out of the shop, calling, “Love you! Bye!” and shutting the door, before she could protest.

With a huff, Hermione set off for the Leaky Cauldron so that she could floo to the Ministry of Magic. At the last minute Viktor had said he would be arriving in Egypt early, with his family, to do some sightseeing before his grueling practice session started. He asked if Hermione would be able to get away for a few extra days, since they hadn’t seen each other since Bill and Fleur’s wedding. She rarely took advantage of her accumulated vacation time and figured she’d treat herself. Maybe getting out of the country, alone, would allow her to shake Fred from her system.

Two hours later, she was letting herself into her Cairo hotel room, kicking off her trainers, and flopping onto one of the two queen sized beds. Her first hour of shaking Fred from her system had been a failure. All through her travels, she kept thinking back to the miserable look that was on his face as she was leaving the store.

Was he that upset about her leaving for a few days? She couldn’t see how that could be. He would be here with George and Ginny at the end of the week. Hermione was positively certain that she had let them know about her plans as soon as she had made them, so he couldn’t be mad about being left in the dark about her plans. It wasn’t her fault if those two only retained half of what was said to them. And why did her plans suddenly matter to him so much anyway?

Hermione groaned into her pillow. More than likely, she was just reading too much into his expressions. How self absorbed was she that she assumed Fred’s sulkiness had been about her? Was she so desperate to mean something more to him than friends that she had resorted to imagining emotions that weren’t there? There was that one evening, a few weeks ago, where it seemed like he was going to kiss her, though she had quickly dismissed that theory. Maybe there was something there on his side too…

“No!” Hermione quickly sat up and slapped her hands over her face. “It’s a stupid crush,” Hermione muttered to herself. “I just need a few Weasley free days  to put my mind straight.”

A knock on the door forced Hermione to drag herself off the bed. A hotel staff member was on the other side, presenting her with a rolled up piece of parchment.

“A letter for Miss Granger.” The man bowed his head as Hermione took the note.

“Thank you.” She gave a small wave and shut the door.

The letter was from Viktor. He passed along the name and address of a restaurant, and hoped that Hermione would be able to join him for lunch. Just the distraction she was looking for— an afternoon with an old friend and delicious, new food. She changed into a fresh shirt and forewent her trainers for a simple pair of flats. Not daring apparate in a new country and risk ending up Merlin knows where, Hermione hailed a muggle taxi to the restaurant.

“Herminny!” a voice boomed as Hermione entered.

Looking around, Hermione spotted Viktor standing and waving from a table in the corner. As she made her way back to the table, she was transported back to the Yule Ball as dozens of pairs of eyes and hushed voices followed her. Viktor was either oblivious or just used to it all, because he paid the extra attention no mind as he wrapped Hermione in a tight hug.

“It is so nice to see you again!” Viktor greeted in his thick Bulgarian accent.

“And you! Thanks so much for the tickets and inviting me to spend a few extra days with you.” Hermione smoothed out her shirt and turned to a petite woman that had stood up beside Viktor. She had long, wavy black hair, big brown eyes, and a wide smile. “You must be Nikolina. Viktor has told me all about you. Hermione Granger,” she introduced, holding out her hand.

“I knew Viktor was not saying your name properly,” Nikolina laughed, gently shaking Hermione’s hand.

“And this is our daughter, Tatiana,” Viktor said, pointing to a little girl sitting beside Nikolina.

The little girl, that was an exact copy of her mother, grinned up at Hermione. “Hi, Herm-oy-lee,” Tatiana chirped, stumbling over the long name. She held up her tiny hand.

Hermione giggled and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you Tatiana. Your daddy talks about you a lot in his letters, too.” Hermione took the last seat at the table and ordered a glass of red wine from the waiter. She turned to Tatiana and said, “I have a niece back in England. She could never say my name either, so she just calls me Min.”

Tatiana turned to her mother had a quick exchange in Bulgarian. At the end, Nikolina smiled and nodded. Tatiana said to Hermione, “I like Min!”

Viktor laughed and downed half of his drink in one gulp. “Maybe I should call you Min, too, and stop butchering your beautiful name.”

The afternoon was certainly a pleasant one. Since leaving Durmstrang, Viktor had been devoted to Quidditch and his family. Just as it had been when he was a teenager, the constant adoration from females never fazed him. He had met Nikolina in, of all places, a book shop. She’d never heard of him and Viktor fell instantly head over heels. Less than a year later, they were married and Tatiana was on the way. He insisted that he had never been happier in his whole life, and Hermione could tell, by his unfaltering smile, that he meant it.

At the end of the meal, Viktor and Nikolina insisted that Hermione join them in their sightseeing the following day. Hermione immediately agreed. She had been wanting to visit Egypt since Ron came back, summer before their third year, and told her and Harry all about his trip. Now that she was here, she couldn’t wait to immerse herself in the culture and history of the country.

“We will meet you at your hotel tomorrow morning, yes?” Viktor confirmed, throwing a giggling Tatiana onto his shoulders.

“Sounds perfect. I’ll be ready.” Hermione hugged him and Nikolina, before they set off down the street, with a small group of admirers trailing after them.

Hermione set off in the opposite direction, not quite sure what she was searching for besides the chance to push a certain redhead into a far corner of her mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Let’s go Fred! We don’t want to keep Ginny waiting!” George called from the sitting room.

Fred made a rude hand gesture at the closed bedroom door, then went back to lacing up his trainer. He couldn’t seem to get excited for their trip to the Quidditch World Cup. He knew the reason, he just didn’t want to admit it to anyone, including himself.

George pounded on the door. “Two minutes and I’m gone, with or without you.”

“Dammit George, calm down. We have plenty of time!” Fred grabbed his duffel bag and whipped the door open. “Portkey leaves in just over an hour. We’ll be there with time to spare.”

George rolled his eyes, grabbed his own bag, and headed for the stairs. Fred silently followed.

“Alright, man, what’s been up with you all week?” George asked as they walked up the street, to the Leaky Cauldron. “You’ve been moping around like someone’s mortally offended you. I thought I had it figured out, but was thinking you’d be in better spirits today.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because we’re on our way to the biggest sporting event in the world?” George nudged Fred with his shoulder, but Fred said nothing. “And also because you’ll be seeing her again,” George added.

“So you think I’m all distraught over Hermione being gone?” Fred asked, kicking a rock across the pathway.

“Well, my skills of observation picked up on the fact that your mood took a turn for the worse when she announced that she was leaving to spend some extra time with a certain foreign, handsome Quidditch player. If I was a betting man—“

“You are a betting man,” Fred muttered.

“If I was a betting man, I’d wager that that correlation was more than coincidental.”

“Well, you’d lose that bet,” Fred said, but not doing a very good job at putting meaning behind the statement.

George suddenly stopped and grabbed Fred’s arm, bringing him to a halt also. “Swallow this stupid pride of yours and tell her how you feel! What’s the point in putting yourself through this torture.”

“I already told you why,” Fred replied, yanking his arm from his brother’s grip. “It’s never a good idea to date your friends. What if things don’t work out between us? I don’t want to have some awkward friendship with her. Plus, with her parents being in Australia, I don’t want her to feel like she’d be outcasted from our family because of it.”

“Why do you assume it’ll all end badly? What if—“

“Because it’s me! All my relationships end badly!” Fred cried, startling a nearby witch and her little boy. “Sorry,” Fred mumbled, waving at them. He turned back to George. “Look, I don’t fully understand what my hang up is at the moment, but whatever it is, I’ll deal with it. Pretty sure a relationship with me is that last thing on Hermione’s mind anyway, after spending the week with Viktor Krum.”

“I think you’ll be surprised,” George laughed. Thankfully, he let the subject drop and continued on to the pub.

Fred honestly wasn’t sure what it was about Hermione that was bothering him the past week, but she had been at the edge of his mind since their moment in the kitchen, weeks earlier. He’d never really thought of Hermione as anymore than a friend before. Then Harry and Ron left, and she started hanging around the shop more and more, and he found himself slowly falling for her. She had a dry, witty sense of humor. And while she may not enjoy all of his and George’s pranks, she was the first to appreciate the intellect and skill that went into their products.

Since that almost kiss in the kitchen, George had been making little comments here and there about asking Hermione on a date, but Fred kept insisting that he didn’t want to chance a relationship with Hermione, and, as much as it hurt, it was true. He had allowed one friendship to turn into more and that had crashed and burned. He hadn’t spoken to Katie Bell since their breakup. The last thing Fred wanted to do was lose Hermione’s friendship. Still, when she had told them she was leaving to spend time with an old flame, his mind was consumed with jealousy and he couldn’t shake it off.

“It’s about time,” Ginny called as Fred and George entered the pub. She gave them both a hug, studying Fred’s face before she let him go. “What’s wrong with you, sulky?”

“He’ll be right as rain soon enough,” George said, slapping Fred on the back.

Fred rolled his eyes and stepped into the fireplace.

Once in Cairo, the three took a horrifying cab ride to the hotel. Fred wasn’t positive what the speed limit was, but he was sure the driver exceeded it every chance he got. Three times the car came to a tire screeching halt, straining them against their seat-belts and causing the boys to throw protective arms in front of Ginny. When the car finally skidded to a stop in front of their hotel, the siblings staggered out of the back. George tossed a few bills to the driver along with colorful suggestions on where he could drive to next.

Ginny was bent double, with a hand over her mouth.

“You okay, Gin?” Fred asked, rubbing her back.

“Yeah,” she breathed, slowly straightening back up. “Not the best experience to have on an empty stomach. I need some food.”

They left their bags with the bellhop and went to check in. As the desk clerk was handing over the keys, a familiar laugh drew their attention to the hotel restaurant on their right.

Fred’s heart sank. There was Hermione, sitting across from Viktor Krum, giggling her head off.

“Hermione!” Ginny squealed, running over to the table.

Hermione looked over and smiled. She stood up, wrapped Ginny in a hug, and waved the boys over. George strode over, with Fred skulking along behind.

“Merlin, that looks amazing,” Ginny sighed, eyeing up Hermione’s plate of strawberry crepes and bacon. “We just rode in the cab from hell. Can I nick a bite?”

“It’s a  breakfast buffet. Go grab a plate and I’ll add it to my tab,” Hermione laughed, pointing to the line of steaming platters behind her. Without another word, Ginny rushed off for the food. “Wow, that baby is doing a number on her isn’t it?” Hermione sat back down and George pulled two more chairs up to the table as Viktor enlarged it. “Other than the horrible cab ride, the rest of the journey go okay?”

“Smashing,” George said, grabbing a slice of bacon from her plate and earning a swift slap.

“Viktor, you remember George and Fred Weasley,” Hermione said, gesturing to the twins.

“Yes, of course. How are you?” Viktor reached across the table to shake their hands.

George reached right out and gave him a firm handshake, saying, “Good to see you again. Thanks so much for the tickets, mate.”

“You’re most welcome. I’m so happy that you could come.” Viktor reached for Fred’s hand.

Fred simply nodded and gave a quick shake, without saying anything. Hermione shot him a questioning look, but he just looked down at his hands.

Ginny was quick to return, with a plate piled high with food. She sat down between Hermione and George and wasted no time making a dent in her fixings.

“Careful there. Remember that kid is liable to kick back anything and everything you offer it,” George warned.

“Don’t care, starving,” Ginny said between bites.

“Congratulations on the baby. Min has been telling me about you and Harry the last few years. I hope he returns to you soon,” Viktor consoled, patting Ginny’s hand.

Fred could see tears shining in Ginny’s eyes at the sentiment, but it took all his self control not to gag. Since when did Viktor start calling Hermione ‘Min’?

“We were just talking about growing our family after the World Cup is over,” Viktor continued.

Fred’s head shot up. What exactly had gone on this past week? Has Hermione been having some secret long distance relationship for years? He certainly didn’t like the cheeky grin on Viktor’s face as he looked at her.

“And how many little Krums do you foresee?” Hermione laughed.

“Five, maybe six. I would love to have a boy. Pass down the name, you know.”

Fred was thankful that he wasn’t eating anything because he suddenly felt very sick.

“That’s such an old fashioned way of thinking,” Hermione scolded playfully. “I know I for one will be keeping the name Granger.”

“It’s different for you though,” Ginny said, swallowing a bit of sausage. “You’re an only child. I’ll be happy enough to take the Potter name. Merlin knows we have enough Weasleys.”

This caused George and Viktor to laugh, but Fred just clutched his stomach. Less than a week and Hermione was already talking marriage and babies.

“We have returned,” a soft voice announced. A woman and little girl seemed to appear from nowhere, setting plates on the table. “A certain someone had to serve herself. Eggs everywhere!”

“Eggs!” the child squealed, clamoring up, onto the chair beside Viktor.

“Eggs!” Viktor echoed with a booming laugh. He ducked his head and planted a kiss on the child’s head.

“Nikky, these are my friends I was telling you about. Ginny, George, and Fred Weasley,” Hermione introduced, pointing to the newcomers. “This is Nikolina and Tatiana.”

Fred looked around the table, trying to figure who Nikolina and Tatiana were. He seemed to be the only one out of the loop, because George and Ginny smiled and reached out to shake Nikolina’s hand.

“Nice to meet you. Big fan of your husband’s for years,” George said.

Husband? An old issue of Quidditch Quarterly swam into his memory.

“Y-yeah, same,” Fred stammered, a wave of realization and relief washing over him. He reached out to shake the smiling witch’s hand.

George caught his eye and winked before excusing himself to go get some food. What a prat! He had known all week about what was driving Fred insane and never once thought to tell him the one little detail that would have eased his mind. Fred watched through narrow eyes as his brother sauntered off to the buffet.

Fred relaxed back into his chair and Hermione smiled at him with a relieved, but confused expression.

“Are you okay, Fred?” she asked.

“Great actually. Bit hungry though. Back in a mo’.” He jumped up and went to grab a plate. “You think you’re so funny,” Fred muttered, reaching in front of his twin for toast.

“I don’t think I’m funny. I know I am,” George stated, moving along to the bacon and sausage.

“Why would you torture me like that?”

George groaned and turned to face Fred. “You’re torturing yourself, mate. All I was doing was simply proving a point. Two points actually, but only one was intentional.”

“Which were?”

“One, you really don’t pay attention to details. Krum has been happily married for several years now. It wasn’t really a hushed up event. Two, and the main point, you have to stop denying your feelings and just own up to them. Wouldn’t it be better to know for certain rather than live in this self made purgatory?”

“Who’s Fred got feelings for?” Ginny piped up, wedging herself in between her brothers.

“No one,” the twins answered in unison.

“Whatever, I’ll find out eventually. Throw some bacon on here, Freddy,” Ginny ordered, holding her plate out.

“I’m glad you’re rooming with Hermione and not us,” Fred muttered, setting slices of bacon alongside her crepes. “I do not want to be around for this encore.”

Ginny stuck out her tongue and stalked back to the table. Fred and George finished loading up their plates, leaving the rest of their conversation for a later time. Feeling like a substantial weight had been lifted off his shoulders, Fred sat down and tucked into his food.

“Before you arrived, we were talking to Hermione about joining Viktor and me at a new dinner and dancing restaurant tonight. Would you be interested?” Nikolina asked, buttering a slice of toast for Tatiana. “The team got invited for a grand opening tonight, and since the grandparents arrive in a few hours, we are going to take advantage of the child free night. Would you all like to join us?”

“Yes!” Ginny cried, before anyone else could debate the idea.

“Really?” Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes!” Ginny repeated. “It’ll give us an excuse to go out shopping today and get amazing new dresses!”

“You can barely stay awake past nine o’clock. You’ll be asleep before dessert.”

Fred snorted a laugh, causing Hermione to grin at him, before turning back to Ginny. It felt like his heart was about to flutter out of his chest.

“Then I will pass out in a stunning new dress,” Ginny pressed on. “Look, I need this. It won’t be long before I start expanding and don’t stop, and the only thing I’ll be able to fit into is a duvet cover. I have no clue where my fiancé is and I may not be getting another chance like this in a long while. So, I can’t speak for these losers, but count me in!”

“Losers? Way to sweet talk us into the idea,” Fred teased.

“And count Hermione in too,” Ginny declared, ignoring his jabs.

“Since when do you speak for me?” Hermione protested.

“You need a night like this just as much as me. You’re social life has taken a major dip lately. Are there any single men on your team?” Ginny asked Viktor.

Fred started choking on a strawberry and George thumped him on the back.

“There’s nothing wrong with my social life!” Hermione said, folding her arms across her chest.

“I hardly count hanging out with these two every other night a social life,” Ginny replied, pointing between Fred and George.

Hermione’s face blushed and Fred pursed his lips. George, on the other hand, laughed and slapped the table, saying, “That settles it. Put our names on the list. We shall be there.” He laughed again as Hermione and Fred shot him death glares. “It sounds like it’ll be a fun filled evening for all.”

“Great!” Ginny wiped her mouth and tossed her napkin on her plate. “I’m going to grab a few things from my bag and then we can head out, Min.”

Before Hermione could refuse, Ginny dashed off. Hermione let out an irritated huff and pulled her wallet from her purse. “She’s about to be somebody’s mother,” she muttered, pulling out a few bills.

“Your money is no good here, Min,” Viktor insisted, pushing the money back to her.

Fred watched as the two friends squabbled over who would pay. While their attention was diverted, Fred slipped the check from the table and passed it to George’s waiting hand. As his twin snuck away, Fred shook his head as Hermione lectured Krum on outdated patriarchal traditions.

“Let’s go Min,” Ginny announced, running up to the table just as George slid back into his seat.

“Just a sec, I need to settle up my half of the bill.”

“What do you mean? George just paid. Let’s go,” Ginny repeated.

Fred recoiled slightly as Hermione’s lips pressed into a firm line that eerily resembled his mother’s disapproving look.

“What did you do?” she asked, looking from one twin to the other.

“Nothing,” they chorused, plastering on their most innocent faces.

“Go on now. We’ll see you gorgeous ladies in a bit,” George said, shooing them away.

Hermione stuffed her wallet back in her purse, letting out a low growl that made Fred’s inside tingle. He couldn’t help thinking he’d like to hear that sound while he had her—

A sudden whack on his shoulder vanished his dirty thoughts. Fred looked up and grinned, relieved to see a playful look on Hermione’s face.

“He might have paid, but I know you played a part in this little sleight of hand, too.” She ruffled his hair and added, “I’m glad to see you smiling again. You had me a bit worried all week.” With a gentle tug of his hair, she set off with Ginny.

Fred watched until Hermione and his sister were lost in the crowd of people.

“Yep, you’ve been the furthest thing from her mind the whole week,” George said, clapping Fred on the shoulder before heading off for the lifts.

“Dammit,” Fred muttered, jumping from his chair and hurrying to catch up with his brother.


	5. Chapter 5

“That one! It’s gorgeous Hermione!” Ginny gasped.

She started slowly walking around Hermione, who had just walked out of the dressing room of a rather upscale boutique. Ginny pulled the zipper up the last unreachable inch and stood back.

“You think so?” Hermione spun around in front of the three way mirror. She gingerly pulled at the bottom hem. “You don’t think it’s too short?”

“Just short enough. Not buying this dress would be a crime against your wardrobe.”

Hermione continued to inspect her reflection for another few minutes. The dress was beautiful. It was a deep plum color, with one strap of floral, corded lace sweeping over her left shoulder, leaving her other bare. The light, gauzy skirt stopped just above her knees.

“It’s not exactly modestly priced though is it?” Hermione chewed her lower lip, eyeing up the silver price tag, dangling from her right armpit. “Pretty sure that’s our grocery budget for a whole month.”

“So we have a few consecutive nights of beans on toast. When was the last time you treated yourself like this?” Ginny asked, smoothing minuscule wrinkles from the dress.

“At least I’ll look classy while I eat my beans,” Hermione laughed, spinning one last time as Ginny let out a victorious whoop. “Will you fix my hair for me?”

Ginny’s eyes went wide and she nodded eagerly. She was constantly asking Hermione for permission to style her hair, but Hermione rarely let her. She was perfectly fine with simple buns and ponytails, and it drove Ginny nuts. She felt that with Hermione having a nice, calm job in the Ministry, she should take a little more time with her appearance; her common phrase being that Hermione’s soft, thick hair was wasted hidden in an elastic.

“Who are you looking to impress tonight?” Ginny teased as Hermione locked herself back in the dressing stall.

“No one in particular,” Hermione answered. She was happy to be separated by a curtain or else her blush would have immediately given her away. Seeing Fred at the hotel, smiling and laughing, helped put her worrying mind at ease. It had also solidified the fact that her infatuation with him wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon, so she may as well just embrace it. She had decided that there was definitely a flirty spark between them in his kitchen and it couldn’t hurt to see if that spark might turn into a flame.

After plunking down a small fortune for her dress, Hermione and Ginny wove their way through the crowds to a second-hand shop to find a few accessories.  Ginny discovered a faux opal pendant to go with the slinky black dress she had purchased. Hermione forewent a necklace, but did snag a pair of dangly pearl earrings, with a matching bracelet.

After a quick lunch, they made their way back to the hotel.

“You got us quite a nice room,” Ginny said, hanging up her dress and sinking into a plush armchair.

“I know. Have you seen the view? We overlook the pool,” Hermione said, opening up the door to the balcony. “I’ve been spending every evening out here, enjoying the view.” Hermione stepped outside and leaned against the railing.

“But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun,” a voice called from below.

Hermione looked down and was surprised to see Fred grinning back at her. He was shirtless, in swim trunks and sunglasses. She hoped the odd angle and bright sunlight would obscure the blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Since when do you know Shakespeare?” Hermione called back.

“Are you calling us uneducated?” George cried, appearing beside his brother.

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “No, I’m just pleasantly surprised. How’s the water?”

“Why don’t you come find out for yourself?” Fred suggested, lowering his sunglasses.

“With you two? Not a chance. We’re about to get ready for the evening anyway. Shouldn’t you be doing the same?””

“Eh, it takes us fifteen minutes. Plenty of time,” Fred replied.

“Well, have fun and don’t break anything. Your sister won’t cancel her plans to take you to the hospital.” Hermione waved and turned and went back inside.

An hour later, Hermione was showered and bundled in a white, silk robe, while Ginny applied generous amounts of Sleekeazy’s potion to her curls. After numerous brushes, Hermione’s hair hung straight and long over her shoulders.

“I’m thinking it would look beautiful in a pinned up low braid, with a few little tendrils left loose to frame your face. How does that sound?” Ginny asked, gathering the hair and lifting it off Hermione’s neck.

“You’re the expert. I’m at your mercy tonight.”

“Excellent.”

Ginny’s nimble hands worked swiftly, looping strands of hair and pinning them up. In what felt like no time at all, Hermione was admiring her new updo in the mirror.

A knock on the door made them both jump.

“Who is it?” Ginny yelled.

“Who do you think?” George yelled back. “You ready?”

“Not quite. Go ahead without us and we’ll meet you there?”

“Alright, see you soon.”

Hermione slipped into her dress and was just fastening the clasp of her bracelet when Ginny emerged from the bathroom in her black, spaghetti strap dress.  Hermione smiled and shook her head.

“You’re practically a married woman and a mum-to-be,” Hermione playfully scolded, zipping up her friend’s dress. She expected a cheeky retort, but Ginny broke down in tears. “Oh, Gin! I was just teasing. Please don’t cry!”

Hermione hugged Ginny tight and rubbed her back. Ginny sniffled into Hermione’s shoulder and drew back to wipe her tears.

“I know, I know,” Ginny croaked. She grabbed tissue from the coffee table and blew her nose. “I just can’t help but keep thinking about how I shouldn’t be going to this alone. Harry should be with me! I know he would love to be here this weekend.”

“Of course he would. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“But what if he’s not?” Ginny sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Nonsense. He’ll be back. I think he’s already proved that nothing will stop him from coming back to you, yes?” Ginny looked Hermione in the eye and nodded. “We just have to take it one day at a time; focus on the here and now. And right now, we look amazing, we’re in an amazing country, about to go have an amazing dinner, and let a bunch of drooling men think they stand a chance with us.”

“Sounds amazing,” Ginny giggled, swiping tears from her cheek.

“Yeah it does! Now, go touch up your makeup and we’ll be off.”

“I’m so lucky to have you,” Ginny cried, throwing her arms around Hermione’s neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“You men look very dashing,” Nikolina complimented as Fred and George took their seats.

“Thank you very much,” George said, puffing out his chest. “We like to come prepared, in case we get invited to any fancy shindigs.”

“Fancy shindigs, such eloquent vocabulary brother dear,” Fred chided.

But it was true. They rarely traveled, but when they did they made sure to pack one or two more formal outfits, along with their usual jeans and t-shirt combo. One never knew when the occasion would arrive for a nice night out. That evening, they had donned matching black slacks and black button up shirts. Their difference came as Fred had opted for a black and violet striped vest, while George had chosen a solid scarlet colored one.

“Where are the girls?” Viktor asked, his eyes the searching the room.

“They were still getting ready when we left the hotel. They shouldn’t be much longer,” George explained as he examined the leather bound menu. He let out a low whistle, making Fred pick up his in curiosity. Ouch! A night out at this joint came at a pretty penny.

It seemed as though Viktor could read their thoughts. “Please, I insist that you order whatever you like. You are our guests and the only worry you should have tonight is about having fun. The waiter is under strict orders already that the final check comes to me.” He winked at Fred.

“You better make sure Hermione has a few drinks in her by that time or she’ll fight you tooth and nail for it,” George laughed.

Ginny and Hermione still hadn’t arrived by the time the waiter made his first appearance, so they went ahead and placed drink orders while they waited.

“I’ll have a pint of the house brew and I know Hermione will have a glass of Pinot Noir,” Fred told the waiter.

“You know her drink order?” George said, arching an eyebrow.

“Merlin, George. We have dinner with the woman twice a week. I’m concerned if you don’t know her drink order by now.”

“Yes, but I didn’t take it upon myself to order it for her. I noticed you didn’t order Ginny anything.”

Fred groaned. “Because with Ginny, at the moment, you never know what she’s going to want and I’d rather not have my head bitten off because I had the audacity to order her the wrong thing. Can you please just drop the subject?” he pleaded.

“Drop what subject?” George asked innocently.

Fred glanced across the table and saw Nikolina and Viktor smirking, awaiting Fred’s answer.

“Just let it go,” Fred warned, through gritted teeth, as the waiter placed their drinks on the table.

As Fred took a long pull of his drink, Viktor smiled and stood, crying out, “There they are!”

The next second Viktor was hugging Ginny and Hermione, saying, “Her-my-nee, watching you walk in, it is like the Yule Ball all over again! You look lovely.”

Fred was trying to ignore his twin’s elbow jabbing into his ribs as he stared at Hermione. Lovely was an understatement. She looked absolutely stunning. She had paired her short purple dress with a pair of heels that showed off her legs. The dress cinched at just the right place to highlight her curvy waist, and she had tamed her long curls with an elaborate plait that was pinned up, revealing her slender neck.

George finally gave up on his prodding and hissed in Fred’s ear, “At least close your mouth as you stare.”

Fred’s jaw clamped shut just as Viktor let go of Hermione and she was able to turn around.

“My, my! You boys sure clean up nicely.” She smiled and slid into the seat beside Fred. “We seem to have to have coordinated our outfits,” Hermione laughed, running a hand across Fred’s vest, making Fred’s eyes go wider as an electric jolt surged through his body.

George snorted into his pint and Fred kicked him in the shin.

“Y-yeah, you look good, er, nice!” He stumbled over his words. “I mean, it’s nice. You know, your dress. It’s good.” Fred closed his eyes and started mentally slapping himself. ‘Pull it together man!’ Forcing his mouth to utter a coherent sentence, Fred tried again. “Viktor’s right, you look beautiful. You chose a very nice dress. As did you, my darling sister,” Fred added, smiling at Ginny. He wasn’t sure how Harry would feel though, knowing his fiancé, mother of his unborn child, was walking around Egypt in that little black dress.

“Thank you. Is this for me?” Hermione asked, gesturing towards the glass of wine. Fred nodded and she eagerly took a sip. “Mmm,” she sighed, licking a drop off her lips.

Food and more drinks were ordered. Various admirers and teammates came by to wish Krum good luck in the match the following day. Nikolina kept shooing them away when they tried to start talking strategy though.

“We put a ban on Quidditch talk tonight,” she explained as the reserve Bulgarian Beater left their table. “Well wishes are fine, but if I let him talk shop, I will never get a dance.”

“I always have time for a dance with you, my love,” Victor replied, kissing her cheek.

Eventually, talk turned to relationships, which left Fred and Hermione as silent observers of the conversation. Ginny and Nikolina talked about potential baby names as Viktor tried to talk up the perks of marriage to George.

“How long have you been with this woman?” Viktor asked, referring to Angelina.

Fred smirked, waiting for George’s memorized speech on why marriage is overrated and that he and Ang were perfectly happy where they were.

“Three years,” George answered.

“And you haven’t talked about marriage at all?” Viktor asked incredulously. Nikolina gave George a stern look of disappointment.

“It’s not like it’s never came up. It’s just not something that’s on our minds at the moment.”

“Bollocks,” Hermione declared, downing the last gulp of her wine.

All eyes turned to her in surprise as George said, “Excuse me, little Miss Prim and Proper? Bollocks, you say?”

“I do indeed.”

“Has Ang been talking to you?”

“No,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “She doesn’t have to though for me to know it’s bollocks.”

“Enlighten me then.” George folded his hands together and leaned forward expectantly.

Hermione sighed and gave George a mockingly sad smile. “To say marriage isn’t on the mind of a woman in a serious relationship is absurd. Honestly, even if the relationship isn’t serious, the thought is there. If the first date goes well, she’ll be imagining her wedding day with that man. As the relationship grows and evolves, so does her wedding day vision, but it’s still there nonetheless.”

“ _That’s_ bollocks,” George said, waving her off.

“I have two ladies that will back me up,” Hermione insisted, pointing to Nikolina and Ginny. Both women nodded earnestly. “And if you’d like, we could go around and poll the other women here. I assure you, the results will come back one hundred percent in my favor.” She smiled warmly when she saw George’s panicked face. Placing a hand on his, she added, “I’m not trying to tell you that Angelina wants you to propose right now, but I thought you should be aware that it is definitely something she has thought about.”

The table fell silent for a moment. Fred watched Hermione signal the waiter for another glass of wine and found himself wondering how she would look in a long, white dress….

“So, Her-my-nee,” Viktor said, breaking the silence. “How did you envision our wedding day?” he asked with a wink. Fred frowned and narrowed his eyes.

“You always told me she was an old friend, not an old girlfriend,” Nikolina teased, lightly slapping Viktor’s arm.

Hermione giggled and shook her head. “I don’t think one or two snogs qualifies me for girlfriend status. But whatever I may have envisioned, paled in comparison to your real one.”

“Good save,” Ginny whispered from across the table. “If you all will excuse me, I need the loo. Hermione?”

Hermione nodded and followed.

George gulped down the rest of his beer and went to say something, but Fred cut him off. “Not a word.” Thankfully an instrumental band was assembling on the front stage and George left his opinions unsaid.

“Would the most beautiful woman in the world honor me with a dance?” Viktor asked, standing and holding out his hand. Nikolina giggled and let him pull her to the dance floor. Even Fred had to admit that they were quite an adorable couple. It was heartwarming to see how devoted they were to each other. It didn’t take long to see that as much as Viktor liked to tease about old times with Hermione, his heart belonged to his wife.

Fred and George watched as more couples took to the dance floor. The waiter came by with fresh drinks. Fred jotted down a mental note to cut himself off early or else he’d be attending the match with a horrible hangover.

“Wonder what’s taking the girls so long?” Fred pondered, looking at Hermione and Ginny’s empty chairs.

“The Egyptian Chasers it would seem,” George answered, pointing to the far edge of the dance floor.

Fred followed George’s gesture and frowned as Hermione was twirled around and then promptly brought back into the embrace of a six and a half foot man, made of solid muscle and cloaked in gold dress robes. She looked positively tiny compared to her partner. Fred didn’t enjoy the smarmy smile on the Chaser’s face, but was relieved at the end of the dance when Hermione gave him a curtsy and he let her walk away without a protest.

Hermione barely made it three paces before another wizard caught her hand. Fred’s heart sank as he watched her smile, nod, and place her hand on his shoulder. This continued through three more songs; as soon as Hermione bid adieu to one guy, another would swoop in to claim her attention.

“Min is certainly tearing up the dance floor,” Ginny laughed, finally returning to her seat. “There are a lot of good looking, single men here. Maybe I’ll get the room to myself tonight.”

Fred tried to hide his groan of misery with a swig of his beer.

“You don’t seem to be short of suitors tonight,” George said, shooting Ginny a disapproving stare.

“Yeah, but you should see their faces when they propose more and I tell them I have a fiance and a baby on the way,” Ginny chortled. “Sends them running pretty quick!”

Finally, after a fast tempo waltz ended, the band announced that they would be taking a quick break. Hermione waved to her most recent dance partner, then stumbled back the table and sank into her seat.

“Goodness,” she breathed, picking up her glass of wine and downing a hearty gulp. “It’s been forever since I’ve gotten to dance like this. My legs are going to be sore tomorrow, but it’s so worth it.”

“Your hair is trying to escape though,” Fred said, delicately pulling a few loose strands from the back of her neck and tucking them up into her braid.

“Oh, thank you.” She ran her hand along the back of her neck, her fingertips grazing Fred’s hand as he pulled away. Hermione smiled at him and went to say something else, but the waiter chose that moment to arrive with the dessert trolley. “Mmm, it all looks so good,” she sighed, eyeing up the sweets.

Once the waiter left, Hermione wasted no time digging into her chocolate mousse. Fred couldn’t help but laugh as she closed her eyes and let out a little moan of pleasure.

“Don’t laugh at me Weasley,” she mumbled through her mouthful of mousse. “It’s absolutely heavenly. Here, try some.” She scooped some of the dessert onto her spoon and held it out to Fred.

Fred hesitated for a second, then leaned forward and accepted the sample. He nodded in agreement as the mixture of tangy and sweet indulged his taste buds. The dessert was divine.

“Fair’s fair,” he said, piling some of his banana toffee brownie, a la mode, onto his own spoon. “Would you like a bite?”

Hermione nodded and leaned in. At the last second, Fred tilted the spoon up and sank her nose into the ice cream. “Oi, cheeky!”

She reached out and grabbed his hand to hold the spoon steady. As she leaned in to take her bite, she dipped her finger into the ice cream and smeared it across his own nose.

“Now we’re even,” Hermione giggled, dabbing at the her nose with a napkin. As she turned her attention back to her own dessert, she asked, “You’ve been unusually quiet tonight. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Fred assured her, digging back into his brownie. “Just a lot of stuff buzzing around my brain that I’m trying to sort through.”

“Anything I can help with?”

‘Everything,’ Fred thought, but shook his head. “Nah, just a load of boring work related stuff. It’s been a nice evening though. I’ve enjoyed just getting to sit and enjoy the company.”

“It has been a nice night,” Hermione replied with the smile that continually turned his heart to mush.

The two fell into easy conversation as they finished their desserts and waited for the band to start back up. When the band took to the stage once again, George was suddenly at Hermione’s side

“Min, would you mind terribly if I stole your attention away from all those strapping young men for a dance?” George proposed, holding out his arm.

“Of course not, good sir,” she laughed. Hermione stood and hooked her arm into his.

Fred silently fumed as his brother kept Hermione for not one, but three dances, before Viktor cut in. George bowed out and offered his hand to Nikolina, who accepted and was led comically around the dance floor for George’s best take on the Tango. Several more songs and Hermione transitioned seamlessly from one dance partner to another, even dancing with Ginny at one point, surrounded by a gaggle of drooling oafs.

“For Merlin’s sake man!” George cried, suddenly appearing behind Fred. “Stop moping and go ask her to dance!”

“But—“

“I don’t want your excuses. Go dance with your hot friend. It’ll make you feel better.” George gave Fred a push, forcing him to stumble out onto the dance floor.

Fred took a deep breath and slowly made his way over to Hermione as the song came to a close. Placing a hand on her bare shoulder, he asked, “May I cut in?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she said, placing her left hand in his right, and resting her other hand on his shoulder. She let out a slow breath and rested her head on his chest. “Thank goodness for a slow song,” she murmured. Her fingertips grazed through the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

“Yeah, thank goodness,” he agreed, losing himself in her light touches and the smell of jasmine wafting from her hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

George grinned from ear to ear as he watched Fred sway in time to the music, arms wrapped tightly around Hermione. So help him, George would make his twin confront his feelings one way or another. He couldn’t continue to live with this forlorn, pining man much longer.

“That smile usually means mischief,” Ginny said, sidling up beside him. “What are you up to?”

“Hopefully playing matchmaker,” George answered, nodding his head towards Fred and Hermione.

Ginny looked over and started laughing. “Min and Fred? Really?”

“He’s crazy for her, and I have a feeling that if he made a move, she wouldn’t say no. Has she mentioned anything of the like to you?”

“No, she hasn’t talked about anybody that she fancies recently.” Ginny’s look went pensive and she tapped her finger on her chin. “Now that you point it out, I guess it’s not out of the realm of possibility. The body language is there.”

“I can see it in Fred. What’s Hermione’s tell?” George inquired.

“The way she’s leaning into him, very relaxed and comfortable. It usually takes Hermione a while to open up to and be that at ease with a person,” Ginny explained.

“True, but that could also be because they’ve been friends for how many years?”

“She didn’t dance like that with you or Viktor. She was comfortable with you guys, but kept a respectable distance. I don’t think you could fit a piece of parchment between them though.”

George nodded and clapped his hands. “Great. How do we get them together?”

“You don’t,” boomed a voice behind them.

Ginny and George turned quickly to see Viktor and Nikolina standing there, smiling and shaking their heads.

“If it is meant to be, it will happen naturally,” Viktor said, simply. “Try to meddle and push too quickly, it will crumble.”

“So, we’re just supposed to let them go and hope two of the most stubborn people in England come to their senses?” George said in disbelief.

Nikolina nodded, clutching Viktor’s arm. “It might take a little time, but when it happens it will be much more satisfying than any tricks or manipulation might be.”

The four of them stood and watched as Fred and Hermione continue to dance, completely oblivious to their surroundings.

“You will keep me updated on them, yes?” Viktor said to George. “I bet fifty of your galleons that they are together come November. Would you like the over or under?”

“Now you’re speaking my language, Mr. Krum! I will take the over on that bet. I fear Freddy’s stubborn arse is going to drag this into the new year.” George reached out and gave Viktor’s hand a firm shake.

“Put me down for the under,” Ginny piped up. “If Hermione sets her sights on something, she’ll get it. I have them sleeping together by October.”

“Alright then. These next few months should be interesting,” George laughed.


	6. Chapter 6

September 2002

 

Fred divided the steaming hot scrambled eggs between two plates, already piled with bacon and toast, and poured himself a cup of coffee. Placing a warming spell on the second plate, he took his own to the small island table and dug in. Glancing at his watch, he frowned. It was nine-thirty in the morning. 

Hermione had told him to be at her flat, at nine o’clock sharp, so they could go over to Ginny and Harry’s new house and paint the nursery. When he arrived, her flat was quiet and appeared empty. He had ventured a peek into her room and found Hermione still asleep, lightly snoring with her mass of curls spread out all over her pillow.

Fred decided to give her another fifteen minutes before he tried to wake her. He picked up the Daily Prophet and started reading. Ten minutes later, he heard Hermione’s door click open and the uneven thud of her footsteps as she staggered to the kitchen. Fred looked up and chuckled quietly into his coffee.

Hers eyes were bloodshot and her hair was sticking up at odd angles. She stood at the entrance to the kitchen, wearing nothing but her knickers and Fred’s old Beater jersey he’d lent her months ago. She looked confusingly at Fred, then around the kitchen, then back at Fred. Still saying nothing, she turned and walked back down to her room.

“Hermione?” Fred called. The response response he received was a moan of anguish.

A minute later, she returned, still giving him a look of confusion. 

“You’re in my kitchen,” Hermione stated.

“Yeah,” Fred said slowly.

“Why are you in my kitchen?” She glanced between the two plates. “And did you make breakfast?”

“You told me to be here at nine. It’s quarter to ten. I figured I’d make breakfast while I waited for you.”

“I told you nine o’clock, Saturday.”

“It is Saturday,” Fred answered, pointing to the calendar. “Don’t tell me you were planning on going into work like this?”

“Shiiiiit,” Hermione groaned, letting her head thud onto the counter. “I may be slightly hungover.”

“You don’t say?” Fred laughed. “What’d you do last night?”

“Our department— Lord, my mouth is like cotton.” Fred passed her his cup of coffee. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “How much sugar did you put in this?” She passed it back and went to pour her own. Adding no cream or sugar, she took a gulp and sighed, before continuing, “Our department finally got that House Elves Rights Act approved, so we went out to celebrate. The night took a downward spiral when Bernard started buying tequila shots and asked me how to play Spin the Bottle.”

“Spin the Bottle?”

“Muggle kissing game,” Hermione explained and Fred frowned. “You can tell how drunk I already was because I actually agreed.” She picked up a piece of toast and nibbled the corner. “The rest of the night is pretty much a blur of random images.”

“You kiss anyone?” Fred’s question came out more bluntly than he had meant for it to, but his jealous curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Hermione’s face screwed up in thought. “I think….I took one spin before I passed out in the booth. I remember kissing Patrick on the cheek. He called me a prude and I slapped him.”

“Fair enough,” Fred acknowledged, with a grin.

“Okay, I’m going to take something for this pounding headache and then a quick, hot shower. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be ready.” She took her toast and coffee, and scurried to the bathroom.

“Hey Min,” Fred called after her. She stopped and looked back. “You wear that shirt well.” He winked as her face flushed crimson. 

Twenty minutes later, Hermione was back in the kitchen. She was wearing a faded grey sweatshirt, ripped jeans, and her hair had been pulled back into a messy bun.

“Ginny left the floo open for us, but she won’t be home until about two. She assured me though that she stocked the ice box with lunch goodies as way of payment for our services,” Hermione explained, stuffing her keys into her purse and her wand into her bun. “Taking a page from Luna’s book,” she said, when Fred shook his head. “It’s quite convenient. Ready?”

Fred nodded and stepped into the fireplace. A few seconds later, he was stepping into the large sitting room of his sister’s new Victorian style house. There wasn’t much in the house yet. The last month had been spent updating and painting. The nursery was the final room to be painted, then the following weekend they would be moving everything else in. 

Behind him, the floo sounded again and Hermione stepped out of the fireplace. He followed her as she made her way up the grand staircase. “They chose a beautiful house,” she said, running her hands along the polished wooden rail. ”I can see why she’s hesitant to move in, though. I wouldn’t want to be in this huge place, all alone. I hate the thought of being in just our little flat alone.”

“Not much longer before the little one is here and she won’t be alone. And I’m sure you’ll be just fine when she’s gone and you have the flat all to yourself.” Fred consoled, but his heart sank when she frowned and shook her head. He was about to say more, but Hermione opened up the nursery door and motioned him in. He arched his eyebrows and said, “What have you girls done in here?”

One of the main walls of the room had been intricately taped and marked with a diagonal, zig-zag pattern. Drop cloths lined the floors and two step ladders sat under the big picture window, on the far side of the room. Fred knelt down, grabbed a screwdriver, and started prying the lid off a paint can, but Hermione grasped his hand.

“Just wait a second, before you dive right in and muck up all our prep work,” she ordered. 

“This isn’t going to be as straightforward as I had hoped, is it?” Fred sighed.

“It will be, if you pay attention for two minutes.” She pulled Fred up and started pointing out walls. “The large, unmarked wall, will be yellow. The two smaller walls will be grey. Those are simple enough. This is going to be the accent wall. Ginny and I spent Monday night measuring and marking. You’ll see we color coded each section, alternating between grey and yellow. We pick a color to do first, and the tape doesn’t get pulled off until the first color is on and dried. It’s quite foolproof, if you pay attention.” She shot him a stern look.

“I love how you’re able to lecture so well, even with a massive hangover.” Fred laughed and dodged her slap. “Okay, why don’t we start with this puzzle of a wall. It feels like it will take the most energy. Get the tough part out of the way and then coast over the finish line. ”

“A very reasonable approach,” Hermione commended. She grabbed the bottom of her sweatshirt and pulled it off. Fred tried, and failed, to divert his attention as she revealed a pink tank top. She pulled the pink top back down, over her exposed belly, and asked, “What color are we starting with?”

Fred quickly looked down at the can of paint he had already half opened. He finished working the screwdriver around the rim of the can, and slowly pulled the lid up. “Looks like we’ve got grey.”

He poured the paint into two pallets and Hermione handed him a roller brush. “Just make sure you paint the sections that have a grey X on them,” she reminded him, before taking her own brush and paint to the far end of the room. “You take the other side and we’ll meet in the middle.”

Fred took his supplies to the opposite side and started painting. Every so often, he would sneak a look down at Hermione and smile. Since their trip to Egypt, his crush on her had only grown. It had felt amazing, holding her in his arms on the dance floor, pretending for a brief moment in time that she might feel the same about him. 

Upon their return to England, George had asked him what he would do if Hermione did in fact feel the same way about him. Fred’s heart soared at the thought, but he quickly quelled that feeling. As much as he would love to find out if there was something between him and Hermione, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing another friendship because he tried to turn it into more. It’s what he kept telling George, and he got the feeling that his brother had started tuning him out whenever he launched into the explanation. But really, if George didn’t want to keep hearing the same thing, he should stop nagging Fred about the same damn subject. He was good friends with Hermione and he was happy with that. 

It took them about an hour and a half to finish up two coats of the grey striped part of the wall. By that time, Hermione’s coffee and toast had worn off and she claimed starvation, so they took a break and went to raid Ginny’s icebox. After polishing off a plate of sandwiches and two pitchers of Pumpkin Juice, they returned to the nursery to start on the yellow stripes.

Hermione pried open the can of paint and handed Fred his new brush and pallet. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Hermione wiped away beads of sweat with her forearm. After hours of painting, she was roasting and her tank top was sticking to her skin. 

“Mind if I open the window for a little?” she breathed, fanning herself. “I feel like I’m melting here.”

“Course not, go ahead,” Fred answered. 

Hermione pushed up the old wooden window frame and hung her head outside for a brief minute, enjoying the early autumn breeze on her face. As she relaxed, the muscles in her right arm started twitching. The constant back and forth rolling was starting to take it’s toll. 

“Not much more now,” Fred encouraged. “Once this wall is done, the others will feel like a walk in the park.”

“Yeah,” Hermione sighed, slumping back to the wall. There were three yellow sections left that needed a second coat and they would be finished with the bloody accent wall. Hermione had thought the hard part would be all the planning and measuring she and Ginny had done earlier in the week. She didn’t realize the physical stamina painting entailed. “This is why I have a desk job,” she muttered, blowing a piece of hair from her face. 

“I think we have finally found an area of study where Hogwarts failed us,” Fred laughed. 

Hermione giggled and, with a heavy sigh, raised her roller once more. 

Just as she was finishing up her last segment, she felt a cool gooiness engulf the back of her left hand. She had made the stupid mistake of leaning against the wall for support, placing her hand in the middle of the patch Fred was painting, and he had rolled right over her hand with the yellow paint.

“Fred! Watch it!” she cried, jerking her hand away.

“Well, keep your hand out of my area then.”

“You could have simply painted around it or told me to move. You didn’t have to paint the entire thing just to make a point,” she huffed.

Fred chuckled and said, “I wasn’t making a point. It was already half yellow and blended in with the wall.”

“It wasn’t already yellow!”

“Oh, I guess everything just looks yellow now,” he said, pulling a face. 

“Now you just sound like a Coldplay song.”

“Coldplay?”

“Muggle band, never mind. Come here!” She went at him with her roller of paint, but he easily caught her wrist before she got close. She attempted to wipe the paint from her left hand onto him, but he clasped that wrist also. “Oooh, you’re infuriating! Lemme go!”

“Promise me no revenge painting,” he warned, not letting go of her wrists.

She caught a hint of challenge in his voice and she decided to play along. 

“And if I don’t?” Hermione said, taking a step towards him. 

“I’m not letting go until I’m certain I won’t end up looking like this wall.” He took a step closer and let his grasp slide from her wrists to her arms.

“Then I guess we’re stuck like this,” she whispered, closing the final gap between them. 

She looked up into his deep brown eyes and heard his breathing quicken. Leaning in against his chest, she swore she could feel the quick flutter of his heart through her thin shirt. She tilted her head up and closed her eyes as his head bowed to hers. She licked her lips in anticipation of a kiss.

But it was a kiss that never came. Fred quickly dropped her arms and the gap between then turned into a canyon. When she opened her eyes, he had his back turned and was violently shaking his head. Biting her bottom lip, she turned back to the wall and hastily began painting again. She thanked the Gods that it was a second coat and her rushed strokes wouldn’t be noticeable. 

Fred silently finished his section and Hermione didn’t dare look his way. Tears were threatening and she felt like if she stopped to peek at him, she wouldn’t be able to keep fighting them back. Instead she knelt down to a fresh can of grey paint and hastily wrenched it open. As her fumbling hands attempted to pour it into a clean pallet, a few dollops slopped over the side, onto the wood floor.

“Shit,” she murmured. Quickly pulling her wand from her hair, she got it up quickly with a cleaning spell. She was thankful for the task of painting the far wall because it meant she could keep her back turned and not chance meeting Fred’s gaze. As she set to work, she succumb to her emotions and let a few tears leak out.

‘Stupid girl,’ she mentally chastised. What was she thinking, trying to kiss him? Of course he didn’t feel that way about her. She was crazy for thinking there was any spark between them! And now she had gone and made it all awkward. Dammit! Why couldn’t she just leave it as a stupid crush and move on!

“Hermione?”

Hermione froze at the sound of his voice. Trying to subtly clear her throat so he wouldn’t detect her distress, she answered, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

Hermione quickly blinked away the last of her tears. “There’s nothing to apologize for Fred. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have—“

“No, I just don’t want you to think—I mean to say, we’re friends and I like it that way.”

Hermione nodded, still not daring to look back at him. “You’re absolutely right. It was a moment of weakness. Forget it even happened.”

“It’s just, I’ve had a friendship turn into more and it blew up in my face. I don’t want to let it happen again,” Fred continued to explain.

Hermione let out a heavy breath and bowed her head. Of course, how could she have forgotten about his last relationship? She finally turned around to him and gave him a gentle smile. 

“I’m sorry, Fred. I completely forgot about Katie. You really fell hard for her didn’t you?”

He grimaced, yet nodded solemnly. “And I haven’t talked to her since the fallout. Though, I heard from Lee that she ended up marrying the bloke she was seeing behind my back, so at least one of us got a silver lining.”

“You know it’s not your fault right?” Hermione walked over to him and rubbed his arm. “She’s the daft one for not realizing what a great guy she had right in front of her.”

Fred finally smiled. “Thanks, Min. But you and me? We’re cool right?”

“Of course.” She opened her arms for a hug and he accepted. Just as he started to let go, Hermione rolled a strip of grey paint down his back. “And we’re also even.”

“Not even close. Granger,” he said, narrowing his eyes. 

She just laughed and went back to painting her wall. It didn’t take them long to finish once they started just painting solid colors, with no pattern to follow. When it was done, they stood together in the middle of the room and marveled at their masterpiece. 

“I have to admit, that wall looks awesome,” Fred admired. “I had my doubts when I walked in, but you and Ginny did a great job designing it.”

“Thanks. It feels like it’s missing something though.” She chewed on her bottom lip as she spun on the spot, inspecting the walls. She looked down at her painted hand and had an idea. “I know!” She grabbed the paint cans and brushes, beckoning Fred over to a corner of the room. “Give me your hand.”

“Nuh uh,” he said, hiding his hands behind his back.

“I promise it’s for a good reason.” 

She held out her hand and Fred finally relented, holding out his right hand to her. She took it and started painting his palm and fingers with the grey paint. Once she had applied a thick coat, she knelt down and pulled him along. Carefully, she pressed his hand against a yellow section in the corner, then pulled it back.

“Here,” Hermione said, hanging Fred a brush and the yellow paint can. “Do mine.”

With the yellow paint, Fred replicated Hermione’s actions, gently placing her hand on the grey section, right underneath his print. 

She wiped her hand on her jeans and pulled her wand from her hair. With all her concentration and neatest cursive, she engraved beside their prints ‘Uncle Fred’ and ‘Auntie Min’.

“There,” she said, tucking her wand back in her bun. “It needed a personal touch. Now this kid will never forget who toiled away all day so they could have an awesome room.”

Fred laughed and ruffled her hair. “It looks fantastic,” he declared. 

“It really does!”

Fred and Hermione jumped at the sound of Ginny’s voice. She had finally arrived home and was grinning, looking around the nursery.

“Sorry I’m so late guys, but this looks wonderful. Thank you so much!” Ginny rushed over to hug them both. “I owe you guys a lot more than lunch.”

“Come here, quick.” Hermione pulled her over to the cans of paint and instructed, “Pick a color.”

Ginny glanced at the hand prints and smiled. “Yellow,” she said, holding out her hand. Once Ginny’s print was set between the first two, Hermione engraved beside it, ‘Mummy’.

“I love it,” Ginny whispered, tears leaking down her cheeks. 

“Good, cause we’re not repainting it,” Fred said, kissing her forehead. “Like it or not, this is what your kid is stuck with.” Ginny laughed and swatted his arm. “I’m going to take off. I should be able to get back in time to help George close up shop.” He looked at Hermione and his brow furrowed slightly. “I’ll see you next week for dinner, right?”

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it. And I’ll be around Sunday to balance the books.” 

Fred nodded and walked out of the room. The girls followed him downstairs and watched as he gave one last wave, before disappearing from the fireplace.

“Ginny, I’m in trouble,” Hermione blurted out.

“Huh? Why? What happened?” Ginny asked, rushing to Hermione’s side.

“I seem to have caught feelings for your brother and I don’t know how to get rid of them.” Hermione turned to Ginny, tears streaming down her cheeks.

To her surprise, Ginny giggled and pulled Hermione to an armchair. “Do you think maybe he has the same feelings and you don’t have to get rid of them?”

Hermione shook her head and sobbed, “No, he made it perfectly clear today that there was a boundary line we couldn’t cross.”

Ginny’s joyful face crumpled and her eyes narrowed. “What did that prat do to you?”

“He didn’t do anything,” Hermione sniffled. Ginny summoned napkins from the kitchen and handed one to Hermione. “Thanks. It was me that crossed the line. I misread signals and tried to kiss him.”

“What did he say about that?”

With a cracking voice, Hermione replayed the scene for Ginny, telling her what Fred had said about not letting his friendships turn into relationships after Katie. At the end, Hermione blew her nose and heard Ginny mumble something that sounded like “Dumbarse.”

“What?” Hermione croaked, rubbing her eyes.

“I said my brother is an arse. I think you can do so much better. It’s been awhile since you’ve been on a proper date. I know a few guys at the club I could set you up with. Try to get your mind off of Fred?” Ginny suggested. 

“I guess. I’m not usually one for blind dates, but desperate times, desperate measures, yeah?”

“I’m back in Wales on Monday. I’ll ask around.”

Hermione nodded and hugged her friend tightly. “Thanks. If anyone knows my type, it’s you.”

“You better believe it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

George had just locked the shop door when he heard the sound of the floo from the stockroom. He picked up a fake wand from the floor and tossed it into the bucket and straightened the Daydream Charms display on his way back to the counter. His brother emerged from behind the curtain and stalked over to him.

“Slap me,” Fred ordered.

George looked at him for a second then gave him a swift slap across the left cheek.

Fred’s eyes went wide in shock, and George could tell he was registering what had just transpired. 

“Ow!” Fred screamed, covering his crimson cheek. He drew in a hissing breath as he slumped onto a stool. 

“Don’t present me with that opportunity and not expect a follow through,” George said, opening up the register. “What, pray tell, is bringing out your masochistic side?”

“I completely screwed myself over,” Fred groaned, rubbing his cheek. 

George went back to the stock room, poured out two generous tumblers of Firewhiskey, and took them back out to the counter. Passing one to the pathetic mess beside him, he said, “Here, it’ll ease some of the stinging. What happened?”

Fred downed his drink in one gulp. “Hermione. She tried to kiss me.”

“Tried? Did she misaim?” 

“No, I left her hanging at the last second.”

George clapped his hand over his own face and groaned. “So close, Gin,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” George said, waving him off. “Fred, you’ve been torturing yourself over this girl for months now. She finally makes the first move and you chicken out?”

At that moment, George’s owl, Jasper, soured through their mail order window and landed on George’s shoulder. “Hey there mate,” he greeted, reaching up to stroke the bird’s head. Jasper hooted and nipped at his finger. “Alright, alright. You got a hot date?” George untied the scroll and the owl took off, back out the window. “At least someone here does.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” Fred said, summoning the bottle of Firewhiskey. “There she was, eyes close, lips parted, ready and waiting. And like a prat, I turned away and told her I preferred being friends.” He took a gulp of the amber liquid, straight from the bottle. “You know what the worst part was?”

“No, do tell.”

“She was cool with it all! Acted like nothing happened and it won’t affect our friendship.”

“But isn’t that what you’ve been saying you want?”

“I don’t know what I want anymore!” Fred yelled, letting his head drop on the counter. “I wanted to kiss her so bad today! There she was, making the first move, all but shouting at me that she wanted more, and I couldn’t do it. I want to be with her, but I don’t want to change our friendship. It’s feels like I’m ripping myself in half.”

George shook his head and let his brother wallow while he unfurled the parchment. He silently laughed at the brief statement- ‘I don’t care what you or Krum says, I’m meddling. Someone has to set his head straight! -G’ With his sister’s declaration, George decided it was time for him to take a step back from his nagging.

“Alright Freddy, here’s my final word on this subject….for now at least.” George sat down beside his brother and pulled the bottle of Firewhiskey away. “You can’t have it both ways. You want to be with her, you’re gonna have to risk the friendship. If you don’t want the friendship to change, then you have to come to terms with the fact that you’ll never be with Hermione the way you truly want to be. After today, I think it’s a bit obvious where she stands. The only one who can figure out the rest out is you.” He clasped Fred on the shoulder and frowned. “I don’t mean to end your day with a kick to the plums, but I’m kicking you out of the flat and moving Angelina in.”

“You really know how to choose your moments,” Fred muttered. “Not that I wasn’t expecting that, but really, now?”

“Think of it as ripping off a plaster. Best to do it all in one go!” George gave his brother a reassuring pat on the back. “You’ll get through this, mate. It’s not the first time a woman’s driven you to the edge of insanity.”


	7. Chapter 7

October (beginning) 2002

 

Hermione glanced at her watch and frowned. She was only an hour into this date and already it felt like forever. She smiled and nodded as Martin, the dullest man in the world, droned on and on about….shit, what was he talking about? Planes? No, trains! Ugh, he was obsessed with Muggle electric trains and wouldn’t shut up about his collection. 

Not once that evening had he asked anything about her or her interests. He endlessly transitioned from babbling about one train to another. She finished off her second glass of wine and moaned as Martin took a breath and continued talking.

“Are you alright?” he asked suddenly.

Hermione’s head snapped up. It was the first question she had been asked that evening, aside from the waiter asking for her order. 

“Um, no actually. Sorry, I’m just not feeling very well this evening. I think my fish may have been a little off.”

“Or maybe it’s because of how much alcohol you’ve had?” Martin suggested, arching his eyebrows and pursing his lips. 

Hermione narrowed her eyes and debated the merits of dumping his water, with lemon, over his balding head. 

“Yes, well either way, I think I’m going to call it a night and head over to the chemist’s.” Hermione stood, placing money on the table and her napkin on the plate. “Thank you for a very, er…an evening.”

With that, she hurried out of the restaurant and up the street, to the Muggle London entrance of The Leaky Cauldron. Saying a quick hello to Neville and his fiancé, Hannah, she tapped the bricks and made her way into Diagon Alley. She was able to stop at Florean Fortescue’s just before it closed for the evening. Balancing three chocolate strawberry sundaes in her hands, she continued up the cobble street to the twins’ shop. She arrived just as George was flipping the sign from OPEN to CLOSED. 

“You look a bit fancy for a night of bookkeeping,” George commented, holding the door open and taking the sundae Hermione handed him. 

“Bookkeeping was not my original plan for the evening,” Hermione groused, setting a sundae next to Fred, who had his head buried in The Daily Prophet. She took a bite of her own ice cream before continuing, “Your sister is a horrible matchmaker!”

George laughed way too hard, making Hermione feel like she was being left out of something. The moment passed quickly and George asked, “I didn’t even know you had a date tonight. Did you Fred?”

“No,” Fred mumbled from behind the paper.

“It was a last minute set up,” Hermione said, kicking off her heels. “I was promised a lovely evening, with a charming wizard named Martin. I didn’t realize her idea of charming was a man that counted how many drinks a girl had with her meal. Which was two, by the way! Who gets their Y-fronts in a twist over two glasses of wine?”

Fred snorted. “If he wasn’t already married, I’d guess you went on a date with Percy,” he laughed, finally taking a bite of his sundae. 

“Go easy on Percy. He’s loosened up quite a bit since he got married,” Hermione defended. 

“So, your date took a nosedive and we’re Plan B?” George questioned.

“I quite like this outfit.and wanted to get a bit more wear out of it,” Hermione said remorsefully, looking down at her white pants and turquoise peasant top. “Wanted to show it off to people who might actually appreciate it.”

“You look cute,” George acknowledged. “Even the thickest bloke could see that.”

“Unless I had a gigantic picture of a train over my boobs, any effort was going to be lost on that one,” Hermione sighed. She watched while Fred continued to lose himself in the paper, as she slowly finished her dessert. 

This date was the third that Ginny had set her up on. The previous two were bad, but the handsy PR rep and spitting announcer paled in comparison to Martin. As bad as all the dates had been, they had worked for getting her mind off Fred though. Since their afternoon of painting, Hermione had made the effort to go on as if nothing had happened. Fred was right— their friendship meant a lot, and if he didn’t feel that way about her, she wasn’t about to do anything to push him away.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked Fred, her curiosity finally getting the best of her. 

“Flat hunting,” he grumbled.

“The daft git leaves it to the last minute to start his search,” George said, tossing his empty container into the bin. “Angelina moves in here, in a week, and now the clock is running out before he has to move back in with Mum.”

“I’m not moving back in with Mum,” Fred growled. 

He slammed the paper on the counter and dragged a hand through his hair. Hermione noticed he was letting it get long, like it had been in her fourth year. Back when….nope, not going there, Hermione thought quickly. Just friends, that’s all.

“What’s the problem?” Hermione asked, peeking at the rental adverts.

“It’s just a bigger pain in the arse than I thought it would be. Everything is either out of my price range or it comes with a roommate. I’m not too keen on weeding through a bunch of nutters.” 

Fred got up and went to start help restocking shelves with George. Hermione moved behind the counter and looked at the paper, as she pulled out the ledger. The page devoted to advertising flats and houses was marked with various circles, Xs, and scribbles. She chewed on her bottom lip as a sudden idea entered her mind. She had a room, sitting empty in her flat. 

Her head and heart went to battle. Logistically it made sense- her friend needed a place and she had one. She was pretty sure they would get along just fine as roommates, and it would be nice to not be alone. Ginny had only been out for a few weeks and already Hermione had spent more nights on the couch than in her bed.

Would her emotions get in the way though? The past month she had been doing a pretty good job at quelling the romantic feelings she had for Fred. Ginny was bound to set her up on a good date soon. The single guys her friend knew couldn’t all possibly be duds.

“Why don’t you move in with me?” Hermione called across the shop.

She was answered with the sound of breaking glass and gagging. Straining to look around the shelves, Hermione saw George had dropped a jar of Wonder Witch perfume. Fred darted up to the counter, coughing and hacking, reeking of lavender and vanilla. Hermione conjured a glass of water and passed it to him.

“Thanks,” he wheezed, gulping it down. He took several deep breaths and looked at her, his eyes red and watering. “What did you say?”

“Why don’t you move in with me?” Hermione repeated. “I have your sister’s old room, sitting empty. It’s yours if you want it.”

“But, don’t you like finally having the place to yourself?” Fred asked.

“No, it’s horrible. I don’t like living alone. Ever since Harry, Ron, and I spent those months….” she trailed off and shook her head. “I prefer having a roommate. I was actually thinking of posting an advert for one, but like you, I don’t want to spend months interviewing nutters.”

Fred chuckled and Hermione continued before he could protest her idea. “If you don’t want to, I understand. I just thought I’d offer. You’re looking for a place to move into quickly and I have an empty room. You already know I’m not a nutter, at least not the dangerous, creepy kind.” Another chuckle. “The rent is reasonable when split, and it’s in a decent area. It’s a Muggle building, but we’ve got the fireplace connected to the Floo network so you’ll have no trouble getting to work.”

“So, no magic?”

“Not necessarily. As long as all of our electronics are off, most minor spells don’t affect the neighbor’s stuff. And if it does, they just chalk it up to the building being old, with sketchy wiring.” Hermione laughed and said, “It’s quite funny to hear Mrs. Llewellyn next door curse when her lights flicker. She comes up with some creative swears that would put you two to shame.”

Fred didn’t say anything for a minute and Hermione watched as he thought over her proposal. Finally he folded up the paper and tossed it into the garbage bin. “When can I move in?”

Hermione smiled and answered, “Anytime you want, roomie.”

“Glad you’re not ending up homeless brother,” George said, slapping Fred on the arm. “Now, if you two will excuse me, I am going to go wash this stench away.”

Hermione sent him a puzzled look as George winked at her and disappeared into the stockroom. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ginny took her time fixing her tea, wondering how her most recent setup was working out for Hermione. She felt a little bad, sending her best friend on all those horrible dates, but she also knew that Hermione would appreciate it later. If Hermione’s straightforward approach wasn’t going to work on her brother, then Ginny was just going to have to rely on his jealousy to give him the extra push, as he watched the girl he liked go on date after date. 

She settled herself into her favorite, worn in leather chair of Harry’s, with her tea and a book. She was wrapped up in one of Harry’s sweaters, pretending that she was snuggled up against him. Besides being the only clothes that fit over her large middle now, Harry’s clothes also helped her feel less alone in the big empty house. 

A tapping on the kitchen window made her moan and she started working on heaving herself out of the chair. She waddled back to the kitchen and opened the window, over the sink, to let Jasper in. He dropped a small piece of parchment on the counter and then set back off, into the night. She unfolded the letter and read- ‘You’ll never guess who’s moving into your old room! I think it might be time to take your plan to the next level. -G’

Ginny laughed out loud. When she moved out, she was pretty sure Hermione would try to find another roommate. She never would have bet that the new flatmate would be Fred though! This was going to be easier than she had originally planned. If all went right with her meddling, Hermione would be a Weasley by this time, next year.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“You think this is a good move?” George asked, dumping a drawer of t-shirts into an empty box.

“How long have you been holding that question in?” Fred frowned at all his shirts and started pulling them back out to refold them. “Would it really exert that much effort to pick them up and place them in the box?”

“Yes, it would. And to answer your original question about my question, since you agreed to move in with the girl that’s been making you mental.”

“She’s not making me mental. I’ve moved passed it all and we’re back to normal.” Fred continued to fold his shirts while George started pulling stuff from the closet. Grasping a handful of hangers, with dress shirts on them, he unceremoniously plunked them into another box. “Why did I ask you to help again? Oh, that’s right, I didn’t!”

“No, but I thought I would be a considerate brother and help speed along the process.”

“Well, you’re not helping. Just leave my stuff alone.” Fred placed his stack of t-shirts in the box and went to rescue his dress shirts.

“What does it matter if the stuff is in proper order anyway?” George said. He opened up the bottom dresser drawer and to Fred’s surprise actually took out the trousers and put them neatly into the box with the shirts. “It’s all going right to the new flat to be automatically unpacked.”

“Yes, but if I can just take it from the box and put it right back into the proper places, without having to refold  _ everything _ , it saves a lot of hassle.”

Fred blew out an exasperated breath. While he and George were very much alike in many ways, there were a few key areas where they differed. Organization was one of them. While George thrived in clutter, Fred preferred to know exactly where all his stuff was. As pathetic as it sounded, this would be the first time he had his own room and was happy to know that half of it wouldn’t be in a constant state of chaos. Knowing Hermione, the rest of the flat was bound to be pretty much the same.

“Whoa ho ho! What’s this now?” George gleefully cried. 

Fred pulled his attention from the closet and found his brother clearing out his sock and pants drawer. He was waving a photograph, with a joyful smile on his face. Fred groaned and tried to snatch the picture away.

“Not so fast, mate!” George jumped onto the bed, holding the photo out of Fred’s reach. “What were you just saying about moving past things and being back to a normal friendship? Normal friends don’t hide pictures in their underpants drawer.”

“It’s a nice picture,” Fred growled. He grabbed one of George’ ankles and pulled, throwing him off balance and sending him crashing to the bare mattress. He pried the picture from his twin’s grasp and attempted to smooth out the bent edges. 

“It is a very nice picture. But where did it come from, and why is it hidden under your boxers?” George said, peeking over Fred’s shoulder at the picture of him and Hermione at the World Cup.

He wasn’t sure what had prompted the moment in the picture. He hadn’t even been aware of the picture being snapped. But Hermione was laughing and jumping as she clapped. She stumbled and as she leaned against Fred for support, he instinctively wrapped his hand around her waist and pulled her close. 

“Ginny took it during the cup final and sent it to me,” Fred answered, tucking it between a pair of trousers. “I hid it because I knew if I kept it on my dresser, you’d mercilessly take the mickey outta me.”

“You know me so well.” George looked around at the half-bare room as Fred put the last of his clothes into boxes. “The only furniture you’re taking is the bed, correct?”

“Yeah, Gin left all her furniture, but her bed was way too small, so I sent it back to the Burrow. Not sure how her and Potter managed to share it whenever he stayed over.” Fred aimed his wand at the bed and shrunk it down until it could fit into his old school trunk. “There you are Georgie boy. You better savor the few sacred moments you have your own room.”

George looked around and his face fell. “It’s a bit of a weird moment, isn’t it?”

“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts about it now! You’ve been practically pushing me out the door these last few weeks, trying to get me to live anywhere but here.”

“Well, yeah, and I still want your arse out. But, it just feels like the end of something big, ya know? There hasn’t been a point in time when we haven’t shared a room.”

“You make us sound like the most well-adjusted twenty-four year olds on the planet,” Fred laughed feebly. He looked at his twin and knew exactly what he was thinking. “You’ll miss me for a minute until Ang is here shaggin’ you senseless, without worry of interruption.”

“Again, you know me so well.” George wrapped Fred in a hug and gave him two firm thumps on the back. “Just remember, if it doesn’t work out, living with Hermione, you’ll always be welcomed back….at Mum and Dad’s.”

Fred laughed and shoved his brother away. “Sappy moment over. Let’s go.”

Fred took his trunk and one box, while George took the last two boxes. It was a tight squeeze, but, one at a time, they were able to squeeze into the fireplace and floo to Fred’s new flat.

“Hey boys!” Hermione called from the kitchen, as the George stepped out of the grate after Fred. “Shoes off on the mat please!”

George raised his eyebrows at Fred as they slipped off their trainers. 

“Don’t give me that look. It’s a perfectly sensible house rule,” Fred defended. He called back to Hermione, “Hey Min! Just taking the stuff to my room.”

There wasn’t much to the flat. The kitchen and living room were separated by a wall, with an arched entrance on both sides. There were short hallways on both sides. The hallway to the right led to Hermione’s room and the bathroom. The twins took the hallway on the left, leading to Fred’s new room and the linen closet.

As soon as they got through the door, George dropped his boxes with a loud thud. 

“Seriously? Could you have any more disregard for my stuff?”

“I didn’t kick it, did I?”

Fred groaned and opened the trunk to retrieve the bed. “Need to do a quick restorative spell, Hermione,” he yelled.

“Go for it!”

Fred brought his bed back up to normal size and with George’s help, positioned it by the window, on the far wall. 

“That’s it. I’ll unpack the rest of it myself later. If I ever move again, I’m asking Ginny to help me.”

“Works for me! I need to go help Ang anyway,” George said as he left the room.

“She has no clue what she’s in for,” Fred muttered. He followed his brother to the kitchen where delicious smells and Hermione’s singing filled the air. 

“Here comes the sun,” Hermione sang, spreading icing on cupcakes. “Here comes the sun, and I say it’s alright.”

“Good luck with this one, Min,” George said, kissing the top of Hermione’s head. “I have a strict no return policy though, so if you get fed up with him,  _ you _ have to rehome him.”

“Thanks for the heads up. I have chicken in the oven. You staying for dinner?”

“No, thanks but I have to go help my beloved move now. Just wanted to say a quick hi and bye.”

“Cupcake for the road?” Hermione offered, handing him one of her pastries. 

“Well, I can’t say no to that, now can I?” George gave her one last kiss on the cheek, stuffed the entire cupcake in his mouth, then saluted Fred before apparating to Angelina’s. 

“He’s Ang’s problem now,” Fred mumbled. He sat down at the table and started inspecting the radio Hermione had on.

“Oh, you know you’ll miss him,” Hermione laughed, pulling more cupcakes from the oven. 

“I’d agree if I didn’t still have to work with the git. What is this contraption?” Fred asked, looking closer at the little rectangular device that had a long wire sticking out of it and was hooked to a speaker. Words scrolled across the front- ‘Here Comes the Sun, The Beatles’.

“It’s called an iPod. My parents gave it to me, for my birthday. You hook it up to a computer and can transfer and store a ton of music on it. I used my dad’s laptop, while they were here last summer, to put on a bunch of my favorite albums on it,” Hermione explained.

“I think I only understood about half of those words,” Fred chuckled. Hermione started to explain again, but he held his hand up. “It’s something that plays music. We don’t have to get technical.”

Hermione smiled and pointed to an arrow on the iPod. “If you push that, it goes to the next song.”

Fred tapped the arrow and the sun song stopped abruptly. A new song started and new words appeared- ‘Golden Years, David Bowie.’ Another push, another song- ‘Crash into Me, Dave Matthews Band’.

“Oh, leave this! It’s my favorite,” Hermione gushed, as soft guitar chords started to play. 

Fred pulled his hand away from the controls and watched as Hermione lost herself in the music, singing while she continued her dinner preparations. 

“You’ve got your ball, you’ve got your chain, tied to me tight, tie me up again. Who’s got their claws in you my friend, into your heart I’ll beat again. Sweet like candy to my soul, sweet you rock and sweet you roll. Lost for you, I’m so lost for you,” she sang, and didn’t stop until the last notes had faded. 

“It’s a nice song,” Fred whispered.

Splotches of pink appeared on Hermione’s cheek. “I like to sing when I cook. They sort of go hand in hand, for me. Ginny teases me about my off-key singing all the time.”

“You sound fine,” Fred reassured. “I will take your kitchen singing over George’s shower singing any day.”

Hermione leaned against the table and smiled.

“Welcome home, Fred Weasley.”


	8. Chapter 8

October 2002

 

Hermione applied a swipe of grey eyeshadow to each of her lids and a coat of pale pink gloss to her lips. A bit of blush on her cheeks, to liven up her pale complexion, and two spritzes of perfume as a finishing touch. Taking a step back, she scrutinized her reflection in the full length mirror.

She was wearing black leggings with a black and white striped striped sweater dress over them. She had left her curls long and loose, choosing to just pin the sides back. Her jewelry was minimalist with just a pair of faux diamond studs in her ears. Deeming her appearance date worthy, Hermione slipped into a pair of black ballet flats and grabbed her purse, just as the floo sounded from the living room.

“What’s for dinner?” Fred asked as she walked into the kitchen.

“I’ve got you spoiled already,” Hermione laughed. She pointed to the refrigerator and said, “Leftovers. I’m on my way out.”

Fred gave her an appraising look and inquired, “Another one of my sister’s setups?”

“Yes, she’s promised that this one isn’t going to make me want to pull my hair out.”

“And you trust her?”

“He’s taking me to the theater after dinner, so he holds promise.” Hermione shoved her keys into her purse and grabbed her wand from the counter. “Fingers crossed that I actually make it all the way through this date.”

“Good luck,” he said, opening up the fridge to rummage for dinner. “Should I wait up?”

“I don’t like your insinuations, Weasley. I shall be returning to my own bed tonight, thank you very much. See you later.”

Fred waved and Hermione apparated to a dark corner, across the street from the posh Italian restaurant. At the walk signal, she scurried across the crosswalk and up to the front doors. When she gave the Maitre D’ her name, he smiled warmly and escorted her into the low lit restaurant and back to a corner booth. Hermione’s heart skipped a beat when her date stood to greet her.

He stood at least six foot tall in a midnight blue, tailored suit and tie. He was clean shaven, with his dark hair clipped short and neat. His dark brown skin was as smooth as his silky voice when he reached out and took Hermione’s hand, introducing himself.

“Hello Hermione. I’m Alister Dennington.” He motioned for Hermione to have a seat, taking his place across from her. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Ginny talks about you a lot at the club.”

“Does she now?” Hermione felt her cheeks start to glow. She was stunned by how incredibly handsome Alister was and suddenly felt very self-conscious.

The feeling didn’t last long, though. Alister was very relaxed and soon made Hermione feel at ease. He was genuinely interested in her job and all the equal rights amendments she was trying to get passed through in the Ministry. He had of course heard about her past, but didn’t linger on it or push for details when the subject came around.

Hermione was just as interested in Alistair. He was a Medi-Wizard with the Harpies and spent a bit of time regaling Hermione with a few of his more humorous injury stories. Like Hermione, both his parents were Muggles. He had read every one of her favorite books, knew about all her favorite shows and movies. He didn’t care much for Quidditch, but loved tennis. Hermione had never played tennis in her life, but she was suddenly very interested in giving it a try.

After a pleasant dinner, she and Alistair walked the short distance to the theater. Hermione was delighted to find out that the tickets he had were for Les Miserables. It had been Hermione’s most beloved musical since her father took her to see it when she was eleven.

Leaving the theater, Alistair gently took Hermione’s hand and intertwined their fingers as he said, “I’m not sure if I’m ready for this evening to end. Would you like to get one last drink?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Hermione agreed.

Alistair gripped her hand a little tighter and apparated them to The Leaky Cauldron.

“Hey Hermione, the usual?” Neville called from behind the bar.

Hermione waved to Neville and and took Alistair’s drink order, insisting that she treated this time.

“You’re a regular here, I see,” Alistair chuckled, as Hermione handed him a glass of wine.

“Kind of,” Hermione laughed as she sat down across from him. “Neville’s an old friend, from school. But my friends own the Wizard Wheezes shop, in Diagon Alley, so I do come through here quite a bit.”

They turned their last drink into two, talking well into the late hours. When Neville announced last call, Hermione gave a startled look at her watch.

“Wow, this evening just seemed to fly by,” Hermione lamented. “Thank you for such a lovely time.”

“Would I be too forward if I said I’d love to see you again?” Alistair asked, standing and reaching for Hermione’s hand.

“I’d like that,” Hermione answered. “I’m free Wednesday and Friday night this week.”

“Do I have to pick just one night?” he teased, leaning in.

“Absolutely not,” Hermione whispered, closing her eyes as his lips met hers in a soft, tingle inducing kiss.

“I’ll send you an owl and we’ll work out the details. Good night, Hermione.” He gave her hand one last squeeze before making his way to the fireplace.

“Good night,” she called just before he disappeared.

Wearing a smile she didn’t think would soon disappear, Hermione said goodbye to Neville and flooed back to her flat. She hated the cliche, but it felt as though she was walking on air.

Drifting into the kitchen, she never even noticed Fred had followed her until he said, “Date went well, I assume?”

Hermione jumped, letting out a squeak of surprise. Clutching her chest, she answered, “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d still be up. Yes, actually, it went very well. It seems your sister may have hit the jackpot on set ups this time.”

“Did she now?” Fred replied. Hermione caught a tone of disappointment in his voice, but before she could inquire about it, he continued. “How about I make some popcorn and you can tell me all about it?”

Hermione smiled and nodded. “Have you and the microwave finally come to an understanding?”

It had taken Fred a bit of time to get used to some of the muggle appliances. He went through quite a few charred bags of popcorn before Hermione stepped in and gave him step by step instructions on what each button meant and how to judge the best cook times.

“It seems to have called a temporary truce,” he said, opening up a bag and throwing it into the microwave. Hermione silently laughed as she listened to him mutter “two, three, six.” and a beep accompanying each of his numbers.

They moved into the living room where Hermione launched into a very detailed account of her night. Fred sat opposite her on the couch, cross legged and attentive. He smiled, nodded, and oohed and ahhed in all the right places. Hermione was just getting to the part of the night at The Leaky Cauldron, when they were interrupted by the shrieking of the smoke detector.

“Not again!” Fred cried, darting for the kitchen, with Hermione quickly following.

The kitchen was engulfed in acrid smoke that continued to pour from the microwave. Pulling their shirts over their faces, Fred went to stop the microwave and Hermione rushed to open the window above the sink.

Stepping back to the kitchen entryway, Hermione pointed her wand towards the window and called, “Ventus!” A swoosh of wind erupted from her wand, sending the smoke out the open window and the letting the alarm fall silent.

Fred tossed the burnt bag into the sink with a groan. Hermione started laughing and couldn’t stop. Fred glanced back at her with a look of exasperation.

“I’m sorry!” she gasped, leaning on a stool for support. She took several deep breaths, letting each one out slowly. Walking over to Fred, she gave his arm a reassuring pat and said, “Next time I go to the store, I’ll get regular popcorn that you can make on the stove.”

“I don’t know what I did wrong! I swear I hit the right buttons!”

Hermione turned to the microwave and looked at the time left on it— 18:43. Stifling another laugh, she shook her head and closed the door.

“I’m not positive, but I think you may have bumped the 0, when you hit start, and set it for twenty three minutes, sixty seconds, instead of two minutes, thirty-six.”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” Fred moaned. “I’m not cut out for the muggle life, Min.”

“It took some time for Ginny to get used to, too. Don’t throw in the towel yet.”

Fred nodded and sighed, “I’m sorry I ruined our popcorn, but I’m happy you finally had a nice date. Did you get a kiss out of it?”

“Yeah, I did,” Hermione said, suddenly feeling a bit shy about divulging details.

He nodded and gestured towards the microwave. “I’ll clean up my mess in the morning.” With a final wave, he retreated up the hallway to his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Fred walked into the kitchen on a Saturday morning and shielded his eyes. Hermione was standing at the island, dressed in a crisp white Polo shirt, a short, white pleated skirt, white trainers, white socks, and had tied her hair back into a ponytail, with a white ribbon. She was eating a bowl of oatmeal, while reading a book.

“Merlin, Min! You’re blinding me with that outfit,” he groaned, pulling the jug of orange juice from the refrigerator. “What are you doing up and ready so early?”

“Early? It’s ten o’clock! Aren’t you supposed to be at the shop by now?” Hermione closed the book, but didn’t put it down.

“I’m in at noon today. George and I swapped long breaks today. I get to sleep in and come in late. He gets an extra long dinner to go out with Ang. Then we’re both there until who knows when, trying to get our stock of fireworks ready for Christmas and New Years.”

“Where are you guys putting all this extra stock? You don’t really have that much extra shelf space?” Hermione scraped the last bits of oatmeal from her bowl and took the dish to the sink.

“You obviously haven’t looked in the linen closet lately,” Fred muttered, pouring out a bowl of corn flakes. He smirked as he awaited her inevitable reaction.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Where did the linens go?”

“Stashed them in the back of your closet.”

“Stay outta my closet! And promise me you’re not going to blow up our flat, Weasley!”

Fred grinned and said, “I’m not going to blow up the flat. And it’s not all in there. Dad cleared out a space in his shed and George is storing some up in his flat.”

Hermione gave him a ‘we’ll-see-about-that’ look and shook her head. She sat down on the stool next to him and held out the book. “I found this on the counter. Are you reading it?”

Fred looked at the book in her hand— Wuthering Heights. “Yeah, just finished it actually. You don’t mind that I borrowed it, do you?”

“Oh, no, of course not. I’m just surprised by your choice. I wouldn’t have pegged you as an Emily Bronte fan,” Hermione said, her voice full of surprise as she laid the book down.

“I’ve been known to pick up a muggle novel or two, you know. Dad used to get them for Ginny, and every now and then a title would strike my interest. I was checking out your collection, on the living room shelf, and thought I’d give this one a go.” Fred slurped a spoonful of cereal.

“Charming, as always,” Hermione teased. “What did you think of it?”

“It’s alright. The characters are a bit frustrating, aren’t they?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the main two, Catherine and Heathcliff. It’s obvious they wanted to be together, but couldn’t drop their silly pretenses and just admit it to each other. And ultimately it resulted in driving them both insane and to their deaths.”

Hermione gazed longingly at the book for a few moments. “Guess it’s not always that straightforward when it’s someone you’ve known forever,”

The urge to wrap her in his arms suddenly consumed Fred. He had been doing so well, suppressing his feelings since moving in Hermione. He knew that allowing himself to get caught up in them again would only drive himself mad. Especially now that she was dating a man that, from the way Hermione talked, sounded perfect for her. But still, that one solemn, little comment brought them roaring back.

The statement left him speechless so he gave a shrug and refilled his bowl. “What’s up with the pristine attire this morning?”

Hermione broke her gaze from the novel and looked down at her clothes. “Oh, Alistair is taking me to his parents’ country club today. He’s going to teach me how to play tennis. I don’t know much about the game, but I remember players having a lot of white in their uniforms.”

“A lot of white is an understatement,” Fred laughed. Hermione frowned and he instantly regretted the teasing. “I’m only joking, Hermione. You look nice. I am going to assume with a skirt, tennis isn’t much of a physical game?”

“Yes, but not in the sense of Rugby tackles or anything of the sort. It’s a lot of running back and forth, hitting a ball over a net at your opponent.”

“I don’t know if it sounds like my cup of tea, but I hope you enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks. Alistair should be here soon. I’m going to use the loo quick.” Hermione dashed for the bathroom and Fred went back to his cornflakes.

He had yet to meet Alistair. Hermione seemed head over heels for the guy and from everything Fred had heard, he treated her well. Ginny absolutely adored Alistair, deeming him ‘one of the best reasons to show up for work’. Fred had a sneaking suspicion that the man could probably walk on water.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of the Perfect One. Hermione was still in the bathroom so Fred pried himself away from breakfast and trudged into the living room. He took a moment to compose his face into a friendly and welcoming appearance, then pulled the door open.

Fred’s silent comparisons immediately began as he said “Hello,” and ushered Alistair in. They were evenly matched for height and build; Fred’s Beater build equitable to Alistair’s tennis physique. Alistair had him beat on best dressed, though. Fred’s current rumpled attire of pajama pants and muscle shirt didn’t help his case, but even on his best day he didn’t come close to the fresh pressed khakis and mint green polo shirt in front of him. He wondered if Alistair was one of those people that ironed his underwear.

“Hi, I’m Fred Weasley, Hermione’s roommate,” Fred said, extending his hand.

“Oh, yes, she’s mentioned you once or twice. You run the little joke shop,” Alistair replied. The tone of condescension wasn’t lost on Fred. Little joke shop? What was this guy’s problem with him? They’d known each other for all of thirty seconds. Before Fred could reply, Alistair continued, “Hermione never said she lived with you.”

Well, look at that. It would seem that Mr. Perfection had a bit of a jealous streak, too.

With a terse smile, Fred said, “I moved in last month, after my sister, Ginny, moved out.”

Alistair did not return the smile and remained silent as he assessed Fred.

“Fred, did I hear a knock?” Hermione called from the hallway.

“Yeah, Alistair is here,” Fred answered.

“Did you let him in?”

“No, I left him waiting in the hall.”

“Fred!” Hermione came rushing into the room and glared at Fred when she saw Alistair standing by the door.

“Of course I let him in. Some of Mum’s lessons on manners did stick with me.”

“I’m glad you two finally got to meet,” she said, grabbing her purse. Smoothing out her skirt, she stopped in front of Alistair and smiled. “Ready?

Fred was surprised when Alistair didn’t return Hermione’s smile. How could anyone not smile at her when she looked at them like that? It was literally impossible!

“You never told me that Fred was your roommate,” Alistair flatly said, accusation tinging his voice.

Hermione’s smile faltered slightly, and Fred had to force himself to remain calm as he watched her try to stay positive.

“Are you sure? I’m could have sworn I mentioned it several times,” she replied.

Alistair’s voice remained cold and flat. “You’ve mentioned your roommate, but I was under the assumption that Ginny was your roommate.”

Fred didn’t like where this conversation was heading and decided it was time to excuse himself. “I’m sorry, but I need to go get ready to head into the shop. Alistair, it was nice to meet you.” Fred gave him a cordial wave that was not echoed. “I hope you two enjoy your day of tennis.”

Fred gave Hermione a wave and a look that he hoped conveyed the message of ‘Sorry if I ruffled a few feathers’. He made a swift getaway to his room and shut the door. He listened to the tense, muffled voices in the living room argue another minute or two before the click of the front door brought silence to the flat. Fred waited another minute before venturing out to the bathroom for a shower.

Business at the shop that day was pretty slow for a Saturday. It was merely the calm before the storm. By the end of the month, Fred and George would need to bring in seasonal employees to help with the holiday rush.

It was still a bit early for Christmas shopping though, and all the young witches and wizards were still in school. Diagon Alley was mostly filled with the usual elder wizards that frequented the benches to people watch, and a few parents with toddlers in tow. Seeing how the twins’ shop wasn’t very toddler friendly, Wizard Wheezes got bypassed by that crowd for the toy store and sweet shop.

Around three o’clock the store was completely empty. George put a security sensor charm on the door and the boys retreated to the stockroom to get a jump start on their fireworks production.

“What’s been dragging you down all day?” George asked, as Fred stirred a bubbling cauldron.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been off kilter all afternoon. Like you’re here, but you’re mind’s not. Slightly worrying seeing as how we’re working with, and amid, a good deal of explosive materials,” George explained, dropping fairy wings into the cauldron, causing the solution to hiss and turn fuchsia.

Fred sighed and reversed his stirring to counter-clockwise. “I met Hermione’s boyfriend this morning.”

“Crikey Fred, I thought we had moved on from all of this mopey longing nonsense,” George cried.

“It’s not mopey longing. The guy just seemed like a stuck up prick. I didn’t like the way he was speaking to her when I left them.” He measured out a small spoonful of doxy eggs and slowly stirred them into the boiling concoction. “And he seemed none too pleased when I introduced myself as her roommate.”

George tilted his head slightly and frowned. “Well, I guess most men wouldn’t be thrilled to find out their girlfriend was living with another guy. How did Min handle it?”

“Typical Hermione fashion- stayed upbeat and tried to smooth it over. I could tell his insinuations hurt her though. Being the source of the tension, I didn’t hang around long enough to see the end.”

“I’m sure she was able to sort it all out. She’s been talking about Alistair non-stop for how many weeks now? As long as he’s not completely stupid, I can’t see it becoming an issue.”

The sensory charm sounded and George left Fred to finish up the first round of fireworks. Fred tried to push thoughts of Hermione from his mind and focus on work, but it was hard. He didn’t like knowing she had been hurt, and hated himself for partly being the cause.

He and George worked well into the evening and it was eleven o’clock when their yawns started outnumbering their words and they decided to call it a night.  They apparated to the Burrow to store their new stock in the corner of their father’s workshop, then bid each other goodnight before flooing to their separate flats.

At home, Fred found a bowl of beef stew, homemade bread, and strawberry pie under a warming spell, on the counter. He smiled and wished he had been able to be home at his usual time to hear Hermione singing in the kitchen while she cooked. It had become his favorite part of the day.

He took the food into the living room, set it on the coffee table, and sank into the soft couch. While it hadn’t been a busy day, Fred’s body still ached from being on his feet the whole day and night. He picked up his bowl of stew, ripped off a chunk of bread and tucked in. He’d never admit it to his Mum, but Hermione’s cooking could rival hers.

Fred was just sopping up the last of the beef stew, with the final hunk of bread, when he heard footsteps move up Hermione’s hallway, through the kitchen, and continue down his hall. Quietly, he got up and followed the sound. He stopped just a few feet behind Hermione. She was leaning the side of her head against his bedroom door, her face turned away from him.

Hermione didn’t say anything or even knock softly on the door. She just stood there, in her faded red pajama pants and Fred’s old Beater jersey, ear pressed firmly against the wood.

“Min?” Fred said softly, reaching out and touching her shoulder.

Hermione shrieked and Fred jumped back, his hands held up defensively. When her eyes met his, she let out a long breath and clutched her chest. As she took a few more deep breaths, Fred took a tentative step forward.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I was in the living room when you came out. Did you need me for something?” Fred asked.

“Yes—I mean no, it’s just that—I, um, had a bad nightmare and just had to come remind myself that I wasn’t alone.” Hermione sniffled and swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. Even in the dim light, Fred could see they were red rimmed and bloodshot.

Unable to stop himself, Fred wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “What’s wrong?”

Hermione buried her face into his shoulder. “Alistair, he—I, well we— we broke up,” she answered in a strained whisper.

“Come sit down,” Fred said, gently coaxing her to the living room. She sat down on the couch and started playing with the fringe on a nearby blanket. “I have a feeling I already know, but what happened?”

Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile. “He couldn’t get over the fact that I had a guy for a roommate. He is of the very outdated belief that men and women can’t live in such close quarters without more than friendship going on.”

“I can’t believe he let something like that come between you two.”

“He was willing to compromise,” Hermione said with a sigh. “I should say, he called it a compromise. I call it an ultimatum.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what was his suggestion?”

“He said I should either move into a flat of my own, or move in with him.” She smiled when Fred pulled a face of disgust. “Yeah, exactly. When I told him that neither of those were going to happen anytime soon, he said that it was an issue he wouldn’t be able to move past. I tried to explain to him how unreasonable he was being, but he wouldn’t budge. Said he couldn’t stand the thought of sending his girlfriend home to another man every night. I told him that I couldn’t just move in with a man that I’ve known for barely a month. And so, we came to a parting of the ways. Never even made it to tennis.”

“You mean this happened and then you’ve been on your own all day?” Fred asked incredulously. “You could have come to the shop and hung out with us.”

“I knew you were going to be busy and didn’t want to interrupt anything.”

Fred placed his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t be daft. You know you can come by anytime. You should never feel like you have to handle anything alone. Remember what we told Ginny all those months ago? Alone is not an option in the Weasley family.”

Hermione let out a sniffle of a laugh. “Thank you.” After a deep breath, that she turned into a long sigh, she asked, “Do you mind if I disrupt your silence with the telly? It’s going to be a while before I can fall back to sleep.”

“Go for it. I’ll get us some snacks and drinks”

“Us? You’re going to stay up too?” she asked, watching as Fred stood up.

“Remember that whole ‘don’t have to be alone’ thing? Of course I’ll stay up with you.”

Fred tousled her hair as he went to the kitchen. He came back with Butterbeers, a bag of crisps, the leftover strawberry pie, and a can of whipped cream. Hermione had already turned on the television and settled on a show.

“What are we watching?” Fred asked, passing her a Butterbeer and opening the crisps.

“Friends,” Hermione answered. “It’s one of my favorites that I used to watch with my mum. Late at night, they run syndicated marathons.” She grabbed the whipped cream, sprayed a mound onto the leftover pie, and dug in.

Fred sat through several episodes, letting Hermione fill him in on the characters and storylines. She seemed to cheer up as she lost herself in the show, repeating memorable lines and singing a song called Smelly Cat. For a muggle show, it turned out to be pretty funny. At least the references he was able to understand were.

During one particular episode, she got weepy and a grin spread across her face. Two of the characters, Chandler and Monica, had just gotten engaged in a flat full of lit candles.

“Alright there, Min?”

“Yeah,” Hermione croaked, waving her hands in front of her face. “I just always get a bit choked up at this part. It’s so simple and beautiful. I love it.”

Fred smiled and continued to watch her for a few moments; her face lighting up as the characters professed their love and shared a kiss. Just when he thought he knew her, Hermione opened up a whole other side of herself. Before now, he wouldn’t have thought of her as one to melt over gushy, romantic scenes. Yet, here she was completely enraptured by the on-screen pair.

As the episode ended and segued into the next, Fred asked a question he’d been wondering about since the first one. “What’s up with this Ross character? Are he and Rachel together or not?”

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “It’s the big ‘will they, won’t they’ of the series. They were together, then broke up. Then they were back to together really briefly, then broke up again. Ross gets a lot of criticism, but he’s actually the character I empathize with most.”

“Really? I would think you’re more like Monica.”

“Yeah, yeah, the perfectionist. I like to think I’m not that bad,” she said, pursing her lips. “I guess I can just relate to Ross’ history.”

“Which is?” Fred asked. The glow of the telly gave away Hermione’s blush.

She exhaled softly and launched into her explanation.

“He’s Monica’s older brother and was in love with Rachel, Monica’s best friend, all throughout school. Rachel never thought of him as anything more than Monica’s brother though. After school, they lost touch for a few years and each had their own relationships. A few years later they find themselves all together again, and Ross realizes that his feelings for Rachel never truly went away.” Hermione bit her lip and glanced down at her hands, whispering, “And Rachel finds that she just might have the same feelings for him.”

Hermione looked back up into his eyes, with a somber smile, and Fred was left speechless. Did she just say what he thought she said? How long—?

“But now, after so many seasons, they’ve been up and down,” Hermione said suddenly, interrupting Fred’s thought. “They’ve gone through all sorts of crazy stuff you’d expect in a sitcom. At the moment they have a baby together and live together, but aren’t together.” She sank back into the corner of the sofa and said, “But everybody’s rooting for them.”

Hermione let silence fall over them as she leaned her head back and got lost in the show again. Fred followed her lead and focused his gaze on the television, though his mind was anywhere but.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

George was still up in his flat when he heard the floo sound, down in the stockroom. It wasn’t often that his brother was in the shop before him, since moving out. George checked the time and saw that Fred was a whole hour early.

He finished up his breakfast and threw a shirt on before making his way downstairs. He was greeted by a cheerful whistling from the front of the store.

“Someone’s in a chipper mood,” George said, unlocking the till and doing the start of day count.

“I had an interesting night last night,” Fred replied, organizing the shelves. “A really nice, interesting night.”

“I left you at like eleven o’clock. How could your night have gotten much more interesting after that?”

“I got home and found out that Hermione and Alistair broke up.”

George groaned and dropped the handful of sickles he was holding.

“Fred, I love you. You’re like a brother to me—“

“I AM your brother.”

“But you have to give this up, man! You’ve been going back and forth about this for months and I thought you finally closed the door on it all when she tried to kiss you.”

“Yes, I did close that door,” Fred said. He strode up to George and leaned over the counter. “But it looks as though a window may have cracked open.”

“Fred…”

“Just listen!”

While George continued his counting, Fred filled him in on his night of consoling his newly single flatmate. He made a disgusted face when Fred told him about the part of Alistair’s ultimatum, but was proud of Hermione for standing her ground. Not that he expected any different. Hermione had been firmly standing her ground since the first day she came into their lives.

Fred finished his story and asked, “So, what do you think?”

George closed the cash register and smiled at his twin. “I think she gave you some pretty strong hints.” Fred grinned at him and went to go back to the shelves. George called, “Oy, Fred!” Fred turned back around. “You screw this up again and I’ll beat the stuffing out of you.”

“Love you too, Forge,” Fred laughed.

During his lunch break, George paid his little sister a visit.

“Ginny,” he called, dusting the soot from his trousers.

“George?”

George followed the sound of her voice to the kitchen and found her standing on a step-ladder, scrubbing the top of the cupboards.

“Are you mad woman!?” He rushed to Ginny’s side and put a supporting hand on her elbow. “Get down from there!”

Ginny groaned and slowly stepped down. “I’m going nuts being home all the time! I’m bored and nesting and have to clean!”

“I’m sure there are plenty of spots to clean where you can keep your feet firmly planted on the floor.” George rubbed her round belly and and smiled when he felt a little kick. “Strong little man you’ve got in there.”

“What makes you so sure it’s a boy?” Ginny chuckled, throwing her sponge into the sink.

“Bill and I have a bet going. I have ten galleons on a boy.”

“Is there anything in this world that you won’t bet on?”

“Not much,” George answered. “Speaking of bets, your meddling has taken an interesting turn.”

“Oh yeah? I figured Alistair might do the trick. I had been keeping him in reserve for the perfect time.”

“Sit down. I’ll make us some lunch.” George started pulling sandwich fixings out of the refrigerator. “I’m sure Hermione’s going to tell you all about last night, but something tells me she might leave out a small chunk of the story.” As George constructed the sandwiches, he retold Fred’s story from the night before.

“Wow, that is not what I expected when I set the two of them up. So, what now?” Ginny asked, accepting the sandwich George slid across the table.

“Now, I think we have to take Krum’s advice and back off,” he said defeatedly, plopping down in the seat beside her. “I think setting up Min on blind dates has gone as far as it can. We just have to let nature take it’s course. Hopefully Fred pulls his head from his arse this time and takes the leap.”

“You don’t think Hermione will try and make the move?”

“You know her better than me, but my hunch is no.” George took of bite of his thick sandwich and let out an aggravated groan when a pickle tumbled onto the center of his shirt. He grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the spot, continuing, “She made the first move once and got burned. I don’t foresee her taking the risk again any time soon.”

“There has to be a way to get Fred to step up the pace,” Ginny said, almost of the verge of pleading.

“You’re just worried because it’s October and you’re going to lose the bet.”

“Partly yes,” Ginny admitted. “But come on, the two of them deserve to be in a good relationship. Fred hasn’t seriously considered anyone since the whole Katie disaster. And Hermione is always so focused on work, she rarely makes time for dating. I’m still surprised she let me set her up on all those dates.” She sunk down in her chair, resting her hands on her bump. “All right, no more meddling. Do you really think he’ll gather the courage and make a move?”

George considered her question. He knew his brother was fearful about diving into another relationship. And the thought of that relationship being with a good friend was doing the poor man’s head in. But George had also never seen him so utterly head over heels for a girl like he was for Hermione.

“I do,” George finally answered. “We just have to have a little patience. You know Fred. He’s never been one to take the easy, straightforward path.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say a big thank you to all the lovely reviews and kudos on my fic! It's all immensely encouraging! I'm having a lot of fun writing this pair and am so happy people are enjoying the story :D

October 2002

 

Hermione scrambled around her office, gathering up the last of her things. Her hair was a frazzled mess of curls, her neat bun long gone after hours of nervously running her hands through her hair. A knock on her door made her squeak in surprise. Her co-worker, Linda, gave her a sympathetic smile.

“It’ll be okay sweetheart. You’re stressing yourself out over nothing,” Linda reassured. Hermione couldn’t speak at the moment so she just lamely nodded her head, fighting to steady her shaky hands. Linda continued, “With all my years here, I’ve gone through this many times. It’s all standard procedure and it’ll be over before you know it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hermione said, her voice barely an audible whisper. 

“My advice- go home, pack, and take a shot of something strong. It’ll help calm your nerves.”

Hermione managed another feeble nod and hugged Linda tightly before making her way to the Ministry’s floo network to get home.

Once back in the flat, Hermione shed her work clothes and dressed in several layers of warm clothes. She shoved another set of warm clothes into a rucksack, not bothering to notice if it was a matching outfit or not. She pulled heavy woolen gloves, a winter cap, and her Gryffindor scarf from her closet and tucked those into her purse. Finally, she tamed her hair into a hasty ponytail and then apparated to Wizard Wheezes.

Before heading inside, she took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. She was already nervous enough and she didn’t want anyone else worrying about her. She’d only be gone for a day and then would get to come right back home. She steeled her face into what she hoped was a look of confidence and control, then opened the door. 

The bell above the door jingled and Fred looked up from the register. The look her gave her told Hermione that she had failed at looking calm and cool. Fred quickly finished up with his customer and motioned her over. 

“What’s wrong, Min?”

“What makes you think something is wrong?” Hermione asked, holding her hands tightly against the counter to hide their shaking. 

“Well, for one, you look like you’re ready for an Arctic trek,” Fred started, reaching out and squishing the layers of fabric covering Hermione’s arm. “Two, your bottom lip is chewed to hell, which usually means something is on your mind that you can’t shake. What’s up?”

Hermione’s top teeth instinctively went to nibble her bottom lip, but she quickly pulled them back. “Do you have any Firewhiskey?” she blurted out.

“I’m sure George has some upstairs. Gimme a second.” Fred disappeared behind the velvet curtain. He reappeared a minute later with a bottle of Ogden’s, a glass, and his twin. He poured out a finger of the amber liquid and said a quick, “Cheers,” as Hermione gulped it down.

Hermione rarely drank anything that strong, but the alcohol worked it’s magic as Linda had promised. As the burning sensation subsided from her throat, her mind calmed down and her hands stopped twitching.

“Rough week?” George asked, taking the glass from her.

“Rough day,” Hermione answered. She turned to Fred’s anxious face. “I won’t be home tonight. My name came up for the Ministry’s bi-annual Azkaban inspection.”

Fred and George’s face fell in unison, and George placed a hand over hers. 

“What? Why you?” Fred demanded, making Hermione flinch.

“Everyone has to at some point. I’ve just gotten lucky the last few years that my name never got drawn,” Hermione explained.

“How do you even get there?” George wondered.

“By boat. Only a select few floos are connected. The rest of us take a small boat out to the island’s check in. Hence the need for many layers.” Hermione gestured to her attire and pulled the winter accessories from her purse. “I leave tonight, in about a half hour, and won’t be back until tomorrow,” she continued, trying to pull her hat over her ponytail. Admitting defeat on the task, she yanked the elastic from her hair and quickly pulled the hat onto her head. She looked at Fred and said, “I just wanted to let you know that you’re on your own for dinner and not to worry.”

“How can I not worry? You’re willingly going to the worst place on earth,” Fred cried, more emotion in his voice than Hermione had anticipated. “Just don’t go! Tell them you won’t do it.”

“I can’t do that—

“Why?”

“It doesn’t work—“

“Why?”

“Because it’s part of my job Fred!” Hermione shouted. Fred’s mouth shut quickly and Hermione took a calming breath. “It’s part of my job,” she repeated, lowering her voice. “I don’t like it either, but I knew it  was a requirement when I took the position.” She sighed, squeezed George’s hand, pushed herself away from the counter and said, “It’s only for a day. I should be back tomorrow night, around dinner time.”

Hermione shifted her pack to her other shoulder and gave a nod. George leaned over the counter and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead. With a wave, Hermione turned and headed back out of the shop. 

She got three paces out the door before she heard Fred’s voice calling her name. She turned around and saw him rushing towards her. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I was out of line. Just…just….” 

Hermione looked into his hazel eyes and was surprised to see them shining with unshed tears. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him tight.

“Just be careful,” he whispered, holding her close.

“It’ll be fine.  _ I’ll _ be fine,” she assured. She leaned back and smiled at him, resisting the urge to run her fingers over his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Fred stepped back and Hermione gave him one last wave before hurrying up to the Leaky Cauldron and flooing back to the Ministry. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Fred woke the following day with a hollow feeling in his stomach. He had worried all night about how Hermione had survived the evening in Azkaban. Since the war, the number of Dementors had been decreased, but they were still part of the guard system at the prison. He remembered how much the creatures affected Harry years ago. Since then, they’d all faced even more heartache and tragedy, especially Hermione. He shuddered to think what those monsters could do to her. 

He forced himself to keep repeating Hermione’s words over and over-  _ “I’ll be fine” _ . She was definitely more capable than most veteran wizards and was able to take care of herself. Fred knew all this, but couldn’t help shake the dreadful feeling all day. More than a few times, George ended up yelling Fred’s name in order to get his attention. 

“All right Freddy, you’re done for the day,” George declared at four o’clock.

“What do you mean?” Fred muttered, drumming his fingers on the counter. “We still have three more hours until closing. And then we have more firework kits to make this evening.”

“I’ve called in Lee to cover for you til’ closing and we’ll do the kits another night next week,” George explained, giving Fred a nudge. “You’re useless today. Go home and make sure she’s okay.”

“George, I’m fine. I’m just—“

“You’re worried and stressed, and it’s completely understandable.” He clapped a hand over George’s shoulder. “You remember me telling you about not blowing your next chance with her?”

“Yeah,” Fred said slowly, giving his twin a puzzled look.

George groaned and gave Fred a gentle smack on the head. “Go to the store and stock up on every form of chocolate. Be ready and waiting with it to welcome her home. Turn on your charm and compassion. This could be your opening!”

“I’m not going to take advantage of her when she’s in a delicate and vulnerable state,” Fred sighed, pushing George away.

“It’s not taking advantage you git. It’s you getting to show Hermione the sweet and sensitive side that you actually have, and seeing where the moment might take you. I know you’ve been wanting to go home and sit in front of that fireplace since you’ve step foot in here this morning. Lee will be here any minute. Go home and ease your mind.”

Fred smiled grimly at the serious look on his brother’s face. George was correct; he had wanted to go home all day and wait for the moment Hermione got home, even though he had known it was hours away. Now though, she could be arriving home any moment and he really did want to be there to see for himself that she was safe.

“Maybe I’ll nip over to Hogsmeade and relieve Honeydukes of all their chocolate.” Fred grabbed his coat and started for the floo. He stopped and turned back. “Thanks, George.”

“Don’t mention it. Just name your first child after me and we’ll call it even,” George replied with a wink.

For the first time that day, Fred laughed. He traveled to the Three Broomsticks and stocked up on Butterbeer before moving onto Honeydukes and buying a dozen of their largest chocolate bars. He knew a dozen was probably overkill, but if he was going to put himself out there he may as well go big with the gesture. 

Back at the flat, he set to work making a batch of brownies and some hot chocolate. At five-thirty, Hermione still wasn’t back. Fred arrange the plate of brownies and chocolate bars around two big mugs of steaming hot chocolate. He settled onto the couch and waited…and waited…

By seven o’clock, Fred was pacing the living room, wondering what he should do. He contemplated going to the Ministry and checking her office. It would be very much like Hermione to come back from a night in Azkaban and finish up paperwork.

Maybe he should go check Ginny’s? Hermione might have thought Fred was still at the shop and, not wanting to be alone after a stressful night, went straight to her best friend’s.

Fred was just going over the merits of flooing back to the shop to check that Hermione hadn’t gone there first, when a crack of apparition halted his pacing. The Minister of Magic stood in the middle of the living room, holding an unconscious Hermione.

“What’s going on?” Fred cried, rushing to Hermione’s side. He helped Kingsley Shacklebolt guide her over to the couch. Hermione’s hands were ice cold and her lips were tinged blue. Fred gathered up every blanket he could find in the sitting room and started layering them over her. “What happened? Is she okay?”

“Miss Granger will be fine,” Kingsley asserted. “I promise I wouldn’t have brought her here if she wasn’t.”

“What happened?” Fred asked again, removing Hermione’s trainers and wrapping a blanket around her feet.

“One of our new recruits foolishly tripped an alarm and sent the Dementors into action.” Kingsley’s usual soothing voice was edge with anger. “While Hermione was working to reset things, the Dementors swarmed on her. She never even had time to conjure a patronus.”

“Merlin, those things need to go,” Fred muttered, smoothing the hair back from Hermione’s face. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Kingsley replied.

“But Hermione’ll be okay?”

“Yes, she just needs a lot of rest and a healthy dose of chocolate, which it seems you have well covered,” Kingsley sniggered, eyeing the coffee table. “When she comes ‘round, try to make her see reason and take a few days off to recover.”

“I’ll give it my best shot. You know as well as anyone how stubborn she can get when it comes to work,” Fred said. He cast a warming charm on the room to help bring Hermione’s body temperature back up.

“Yes, well, no one will fault her for taking a long weekend. I’ll send an owl tomorrow to check in on her.”

“Thank you Kingsley.”

The Minister reached over and shook Fred’s hand. A second later he was gone with a crack and Fred was left to sit and wait for Hermione to wake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

_ The sneering face of Bellatrix Lestrange hovered above Hermione. She could feel the cold blade of the insane witch’s dagger slice through the flesh of her cheek. Blood trickled over her jawline, down to her ear. Hermione’s vision was blurred and her sobs came in frantic gasps. _

_ “Tell me where you got the sword, Mudblood!” Bellatrix hissed. She raised her wand and sent another Cruciatus curse through Hermione’s battered body. _

Hermione screamed and sat straight up. Her head span and stomach lurched. Scrambling out of a mass of blankets, she clamored to her feet and stumbled to the bathroom. Her stocking feet slid on the hardwood and she was vaguely aware of a pair of hands on her hips, supporting her clumsy venture.

At last, Hermione collapsed in front of the toilet and wretched. Hands were gathering her hair back and a soothing voice was telling her everything was going to be okay. But she felt far from ‘okay’. Her body convulsed with each heave and it felt like she was knelt there for hours, throwing up everything she had ever eaten until there was nothing but bile stinging her throat. After a final dry heave wracked her body, Hermione collapsed back into waiting arms. 

A cold sweat dotted her head as her breaths slowed to raspy puffs. A cold cloth was gliding across her forehead and then wiping the bitter acidic remnants from her mouth. Fractured thoughts and memories ran through her brain and Hermione was suddenly desperate to get off the bathroom floor. Arms flailing, she attempted to push herself to her feet. 

“Hold on, Min,” a voice whispered. Who was in her house? How did they know her name? “Here we go.” 

Hermione was gently lifted up and cradled against a firm body. Her mind told her to fight, but there wasn’t an ounce of fight left in her. Whoever was with her appeared kind and helpful, and a minute later she was placed on a soft surface and surrounded once more with a mass of blankets. A helpful hand was back, stroking her hair, and she couldn’t help but lean into the warm caresses. 

Her head dropped back onto a pillow and she lingered somewhere between sleep and drunken consciousness. Broken scenes were playing in her mind- a chaotic wedding cut to narrowly escaping a giant snake, which jumped to her lying on the floor of Malfoy Manor.

“Hermione,” a faraway voice called. “I need you to open your mouth.”

The familiar voice broke through her tortured memory. It was comforting and conjured images of an apple trees and lazy summer afternoons.

“Open your mouth, love,” the voice coaxed, closer now. 

Without another thought, Hermione parted her lips and was rewarded with a rich, warm liquid coating her tongue. She struggled to swallow, but the moment she did a tingling sensation started in her fingertips and crept up her arms. 

“That’s it. Try a little more.”

Hermione managed to swallow two more gulps before she was finally able to pry her eyes open. A hazy face, framed by red hair, swam in front of her. 

“Fred?” Her voice was barely recognizable.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

She blinked several times and slowly raised her hand to his cheek, attempting a smile. It must have translated to a pained expression though, because Fred’s brow furrowed and he squeezed her hand.

“Are you hurt?” he asked quickly.

“No,” Hermione answered, shaking her head gently. “How did I get home?”

“Kingsley brought you back. He said you’d be fine, you just needed to rest. Can I talk you into some more hot chocolate?” Fred asked, holding up a mug. “Those few spoonfuls helped get some color back to your face, but you’re still a few shades off.”

Hermione held out her hands and Fred settled the mug into them. He helped guide it to her mouth and she heard him chuckled as a few drops dribbled down her chin. He reached over and wiped it off with his shirt sleeve.

“Guess my muscle control and coordination hasn’t quite recovered,” Hermione whispered, licking her lips. “This is delicious though,” she said, letting her face hover above the sweet steam. “It tastes like a liquid Honeydukes’ bar.”

“That would be because it is,” Fred laughed. 

“You can barely make popcorn and you’re gonna sit there and tell me you can make homemade hot chocolate?” Hermione attempted another sip and was relieved when all of the heavenly drink stayed in her mouth.

“I baked brownies too,” Fred said, holding up a plate of full of chocolatey desserts. “I never claimed I couldn’t cook. Your muggle appliances have just conspired against me.” He pulled off a corner of a brownie and popped it into her mouth. Merlin, the man  _ could _ bake. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I think I’m going to let you pull some of your weight in the kitchen.”

Fred laughed and nodded. “Fair enough. As long as you still do the singing.”

Hermione grinned and relaxed beneath her blankets. She let her eyes close and took another sip of hot chocolate. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” she breathed.

“Of course,” Fred replied, tucking a few of her loose curls behind her ear. “I’m glad I was able to be here when Kingsley brought you back. I hope he’s working on a plan to get rid of those monsters for good.”

Hermione opened her eyes and slowly sat up. She started to reach over, to set her mug on the table, but Fred caught her hand.

“I’ve got it. Save your energy,” he said, taking the cup from her. 

“Thanks,” Hermione whispered, dropping back against the pillows. “You know, I never quite understood how bad the Dementors affected Harry. It was hard to put myself in his shoes at that time. But now…I don’t know how he handled all of that as a teenager. It was beyond horrible.”

“I was worried about how much they might affect you,” Fred said with a frown. He slipped her hand into his and grazed his thumb back and forth over her knuckles.

“It was like I relived every terrifying experience within the span of seconds- obliviating my parents’ memories, the end of Bill and Fleur’s wedding, escaping Nagini with Harry, being tortured by Bellatrix, that wall falling on you, thinking Harry had died. I saw it all again, just as vivid as if it was the first time.” Hermione shuddered and squeezed Fred’s hand. 

“Wait, I— I rank amongst your worst memories?”

Hermione’s heart sank at the crestfallen look on her roommate’s face. She scrambled to explain herself.

“Well, yes, but because you practically died that night. The fear I relived was thinking I’d just lost one of my friends.”

“Hold up, I died?” Fred jumped to his feet.

Hermione sat up, keeping as firm a grip on his hand as she could. She tucked her feet up under her and patted the couch, urging him to sit down. “Didn’t Percy ever tell you about that night?”

Fred sat down and said, “He told me the wall exploded and knocked me out.”

“I have a feeling after everything, he didn’t want to worry you or the rest of the family. I always just assumed you had been told what happened that night.”

Fred shook his head, his face full of panic. “I know this is insanely selfish of me to ask, given what you just went through, but can you tell me? I have a millions questions going through my head right now and if some of them don’t get answered, I may go mad.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you.” Hermione sat up a little straighter so that Fred could sit back on the couch. “Please, just promise me you won’t hold this against Percy. I’m sure he was only doing what he thought were best by not telling you the whole story.”

Fred sighed and agreed, saying, “I won’t hold a grudge over something that happened years ago, but I think I deserve to know if I’m a zombie.”

Hermione giggled and shook her head. “You make a very cute zombie then, if that’s the case.”

“Do I now?”

“As if I needed to inflate your ego anymore,” Hermione smirked. “Anyway, the night of the battle, Harry, Ron, and I ran into you and Percy while you were dueling Thicknesse, outside of the Room of Requirement.”

“I remember that part.”

“Somebody’s curse got rebounded, causing the wall to explode and it came down on top of you. The four of us were able to take care of Thicknesse, but when we turned around we couldn’t see you. We all started frantically pulling chunks of wall away and, after what felt like forever, Percy finally found you. He pulled you out and started screaming that you were dead, he couldn’t find a pulse.”

Hermione took a breath before continuing. “We all rushed over and I started feeling your wrists and neck for any sign of a heartbeat. Percy was right though, there was nothing. All I can remember thinking in the moment was that there was no way we were losing you without a fight. So I started doing the only thing I could think of and I started CPR.”

“CPR?” Fred gave her a blank stare.

“It’s a muggle medical term. It stands for cardiopulmonary resuscitation.” Fred continued to stare blankly. “Sometimes it’s called mouth to mouth resuscitation? No? It’s a procedure where you blow a puff of air into someone’s mouth and then perform chest compressions to keep blood and oxygen moving through the body. It was the first thing that sprang to my mind and I started working on you right away, praying to any and all of the Gods that you weren’t really dead. I don’t know how many minutes passed, I just couldn’t accept the possibility that you were gone.”

“Harry had just started trying to pull me away, saying that there was nothing else we could do and we had to move, when you suddenly gave a gasp. I can’t even begin to describe the feeling of relief when I reached up to your neck and felt a steady beat against my fingers.”

Without realizing it, as Hermione had finished her story, she had reached her hand up to Fred’s neck and instinctively found his pulse. This time, she could feel it thudding quickly against her fingertips.

“And that is how one of my worst memories and one of my happiest memories happened within the span of minutes of each other,” she concluded, dropping her hand to her lap. 

Fred stared at her, not saying anything. Hermione wondered how bright red her blush was against her pale face. She could feel her cheeks burning and knew it wasn’t just because of the chocolate. 

“You saved my life,” Fred finally whispered. “All these years and I never knew that you’re the reason I’m still here.”

“Please don’t go all weird and think you’re indebted to me or something.”

“There has to be something I can do. A simple thank you doesn’t seem to cover it.”

Hermione slipped her hand back into his and said, “It’s more than enough. But, if you insist on more, then make me hot chocolate and brownies until the end of time and we’ll call it even.”

“Consider it done.” Fred squeezed her hand and asked, “Would you like me to help you back to your bed?”

“I’m actually quite comfy here. Will you stay with me a little longer?”

“As long and you want.” He leaned over and placed a kiss on her head and tucked a blanket around her shoulders. “Get some rest. I’m not going anywhere.”

Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed and she let herself drift off to sleep. Instead of tortuous memories plaguing her dreams, comforting images of her friends and family played through like a film, with a certain redhead making more than one appearance.


	10. Chapter 10

November 2002

 

The weeks that followed were full of shameless flirting that filled Hermione’s stomach with fluttering butterflies. The only problem was that it never seemed to progress past flirting. Just when Hermione thought things might go to the next level, Fred seemed to suddenly back off and leave her hanging. It was driving her crazy! Their latest morning exchange was replaying in her mind when a memo zoomed into her office and kept bumping against her head until she snatched it out of the air.

The note was from her supervisor, Declan Peterson, asking to see her in his office after lunch that day. Hermione groaned and tossed the note aside. It was a Friday and all she wanted to do was get through the work day and go. She was spending the night at Ginny’s place. Fred would be working late nights with George as they continued to churn out fireworks, preparing for the holiday rush. Hermione didn’t want to spend the entire weekend in an empty flat and Ginny was going crazy trying to clean the house, so Hermione was going to go help her clean the high areas that George had deemed off limits for her. 

After her lunch break, Hermione made her way to her supervisor’s office and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Declan called.

Hermione opened the door and took a step in. “Hi, Mr. Peterson. You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Hermione. Please, sit down,” Declan said, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk. “I wanted to talk to you about a new position that is opening up. I know you’ve had your eye on the department head promotion, but I think this might be a great opportunity for you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That evening, Hermione flooed right to Ginny’s house. Her best friend was asleep on the couch, soft snores rustling wisps of her copper hair. Hermione let her enjoy a nap and set to work fixing dinner. Ginny woke up just as Hermione was taking the lasagna out of the oven. 

“You should have woken me up, Min,” Ginny said, yawning and stretching her arms over her head. 

“But you looked so peaceful. You should enjoy the uninterrupted naps while you still can.” Hermione put two bowls of salad on the table and started dishing out the lasagna. 

“True enough. Are you ready for some cleaning?”

“You sure know how to show a girl a good time on a Friday night,” Hermione laughed. “Not that I’ve have many other appealing offers.”

“Is my brother still being an idiot?” Ginny scoffed, drizzling vinaigrette on her salad. “I’ll go smack some sense into him if you’d like.”

“No, but thank you.” Hermione sighed and plunked down into a chair. “I did get a interesting offer at work today, though.”

“What’s that?”

“They offered me a promotion. The position of North American Liaison has opened up and Declan thinks I’m perfect for it.”

“Really? Wow! That’s great, Min! Congratulations! I bet I have champagne somewhere to toast with.” Ginny started to pull herself up, but Hermione grabbed her hand and coaxed her back down.

“I haven’t accepted it yet. It comes with a catch.”

“What’s the catch?” Ginny asked.

“The position is in New York City. I’d have to move to America.” Hermione nibbled on her bottom lip, for the millionth time that day, as she awaited her friend’s reaction.

“Oh,” Ginny said, sinking back in her chair. “That…that…”

“Sucks?” 

“Yeah. What did you tell him then?”

“I told him I’d like a week to think about it.” Hermione poked at her pasta, not the least bit hungry. “It really is an amazing promotion and I’m thrilled that he offered it to me first. But it would be such a big change. I have no idea what I should do.”

“You’re a logical, organized witch. Give me your pros and cons. I know you’ve been listing them in your head all day.”

“Okay.” Hermione took a deep breath and started, “Pros- It’d be a big step forward in my career. I’ve never been to America, so that’d be a new adventure. I love the thought of a new challenge. And it’s not like I’d have to stay there forever. I’m sure this job would open up a world of new possibilities for my future. Plus, maybe putting distance between myself and Fred would be a good thing?”

“And cons?”

“I get a bit anxious thinking about starting over in a new country. I’d know absolutely no one over there. I don’t like the thought of leaving you, with a new baby and still no Harry. Plus, I’d miss watching the little one grow up and that thought makes me really sad.” Hermione frowned and rubbed Ginny’s belly.

“And?” Ginny prodded, giving Hermione a knowing look.

“And,” Hermione sighed before admitting, “I don’t want to leave your stupid git of a brother, even though he doesn’t seem to know what the hell he wants.”

“My offering to beat some sense into him still stands.”

“I’ll call you in if things get desperate.” Hermione took a bite of lasagna. “We have Sunday dinner coming up this weekend. I’ll mention it to the family and get a few outside opinions. Declan gave me this week to mull it over, but he needs my answer by next Monday.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fred woke Sunday morning to find Hermione in the kitchen, already showered and dressed, sipping coffee and reading the Daily Prophet. A bowl of soggy cereal remains sat in front of her. She had on a midnight blue sweater dress, over black leggings, both of which hugged every curve of her body. She had several of these types of dresses and Fred had come to the conclusion that those were his favorites. 

He hovered in the doorway, indulging in his habit of studying her every move when he thought she wasn’t watching. No little detail escaped his attention. From the way she clutched her favorite chipped, red coffee mug with both hands, and licked her lips after every sip, to the way she blew stray, wispy curls from her face when they dared to fall in her face as she read.

Since her return from Azkaban, Fred had tormented himself worse than ever before. There was no denying it now; there was definitely something between the two of them. But he couldn’t quite shake his hesitation to take that next step forward in their relationship. After her ordeal with the Dementors and then the story about saving his life, he wasn’t about to make a move that night. So, they fell into a routine of flirting with each other and every time Fred thought he should just throw caution to the wind and kiss her, something niggled at the back of his brain and made him withdraw. 

“Have I sprouted a second head?” Hermione asked suddenly, without looking up from the paper.

“No,” Fred answered with a chuckle.

“Then why are you staring at me?” She finally set down her mug and looked up at him. 

“Just lost in a thought,” Fred said, striding to the refrigerator. He took the final two swigs of orange juice straight from the container and earned a glare look from Hermione. “Don’t give me that look. What’s the use of dirtying a cup for that?” He pulled out the milk and set about pouring his own bowl of cereal. “Big plans for the morning?”

“I’m going to head over to The Burrow a little early and try give your mum a hand with the cooking. I always feel a bit bad that she does all of the cooking, all of the time.”

“You know she—“

“I know, she loves to fuss over everyone,” Hermione finished, waving his comment off. “But still. I thought it’d be nice to go over and take some of the pressure off her and help out. If she lets me, that is.”

“If you give me a little time to wake up and get ready, I’ll head over with you,” Fred offered. 

“You want to help cook Sunday dinner?” Hermione asked, arching her eyebrows. Fred smirked at her expression. He enjoyed the fact that he was able to surprise her with some of his hidden talents.

“I’m more than just hot chocolate and brownies, sweetheart,” he said through a mouthful of cornflakes. “I make a pretty mean Yorkshire pudding and I’m no stranger to gravy.”

“All right then, we’ll go attempt the impossible and try to get your mother to hand over the reins to her kitchen.”

“Excellent!” 

An hour later, Fred was dressed in his best, non-holey, pair of jeans and a button up, green plaid shirt, trying to encourage his mum to let him and Hermione handle Sunday dinner. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you two,” Molly Weasley was attempting to explain. “It’s just that--”

“You don’t trust us,” Fred concluded.

“Shush you!” She swatted Fred’s shoulder and huffed. “I don’t know what to do with myself if I’m not preparing a feast for an army.”

“Let us handle it all and you can actually have time to relax,” Hermione suggested. “Victoire will be here soon. I’m sure she’d love some special Mémé Molly time.”

“That’s true. I know Fleur has had her hands full since she found out baby number two is on the way.” Fred watched as his mum thought over her options. “I have some cookie dough chilled in the icebox. Her and I can cut and decorate cookies for dessert while you two prepare the main dishes.”

“That sounds great,” Hermione declared. “Go rest your feet and don’t worry about a thing.”

As his mother retreated to the sitting room, Fred leaned down and muttered in Hermione’s ear, “Way to work the grandchild angle there.”

“Everyone has their soft spots. Now, what would you like to be in charge of?”

Fred undertook the tasks of Yorkshire pudding, cranberry sauce, and the potato side dishes. Hermione would oversee the ham, and vegetables, and added chocolate cake to the dessert menu. 

Family members started trickling in. George and Angelina arrived first, shortly followed by Bill, Fleur, and Victoire. His niece was overjoyed at the prospect of baking cookies with her grandmother. 

“Can we use yots of spwinkles?” Victoire squealed.

“As many as you want,” Molly said, planting a kiss atop the blonde head. 

Ginny and Charlie arrived within minutes of each other. Ginny joined in on the cookie decorating, in the dining room. Charlie went out to the workshop, where his dad and Bill were. Hermione and Fred were left alone in the kitchen, putting the final touches on dinner.

“Fred, can you mix up that icing quick?” Hermione asked as she opened the oven and put a final glaze on the ham. 

“Sure.” He swirled his wand over the bowl and the chocolate frosting whipped around. He dipped his finger in and snuck a taste. “Mmm, it’s good. Here, try some.”

Hermione turned around and Fred swiped some frosting across her lips. She glowered at him as she licked it off her lips. 

“I know it’s good. I made it.” She turned back to the oven to pull out a tray of roasted potatoes and then set to work spreading the icing over the cake. 

“Okay, how about something I made?” Fred pulled over the bowl of cranberry sauce. When Hermione turned to him again, he swiped some of it over her lips. “What do you think?”

“I think,” she started, licking her lips again, “You need to stop smearing food on my face. But yes, it’s good.”

Fred smirked and started mixing up his mashed potatoes. Hermione finished with the cake and took the ham out of the oven to make room for the impending cookies. 

“Hey, Min,” Fred said, scooping a blob of mashed potato onto his finger. He resisted chuckling at her irritated huff and waited.

“What, Fred?” she sighed, turning around to face him again.

“How are my potatoes?” he asked, smearing the mash across her lips.

Her eyes narrowed as her tongue darted out and caressed her upper lip. 

“They need salt.”

Fred eyed her lips. A tiny bit of mashed potato lingered at the corner of her mouth. Without thinking, he leaned over and covered her mouth with his. To his relief Hermione didn’t pull away. He ran his tongue over her lips and his mind melted as they parted and her tongue flicked against his. He could taste the chocolate frosting, sweet cranberries, and creamy potatoes on her tongue and desperately wanted to deepen the kiss, but he summoned all his willpower and pulled away, knowing that they could be interrupted at any moment. 

“I don’t know,” Fred said breathlessly. “I think they taste quite nice.”

Hermione stared at him; her amber eyes wide and unblinking. 

“Yeah, nice,” she breathed. 

“I’ll go set the table.” 

Fred gathered the plates and strode to the dining room, a new spring in his step.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damn! Damn, damn, damn! Hermione closed her eyes and chewed the inside of her cheek. Of course this would be the moment Fred chose to make his move! When she’s struggling to make an important life decision, surrounded by nosey family members. 

“Auntie Min! Look at our cookies!” Victoire ran into the kitchen and bounced on her toes, as Molly balanced two baking sheets in her hands and maneuvered around the giddy toddler to the oven. “Aren’t they boofull?”

“They are the most boofull cookies I have ever seen!” Hermione gushed. “Which one is mine?”

“Dat one!” Victoire pointed at a heart shaped cookie, covered in pink and purple sprinkles. 

“I can’t wait. Can you do me a big favor?” Victoire nodded and Hermione handed her a basket of cutlery. “Uncle Freddy forgot these. Do you want to go help him put them on the table?”

Victoire grabbed the basket and skipped off to the dining room. Hermione put the finishing touches on the dishes, sneaking a pinch of salt into the mash. She started floating dishes to the table and Molly went to call the rest of the men in from the workshop. 

Hermione took in a tray of drinks and condiments and slid into the chair across from Fred. They exchanged sheepish smiles, but didn’t say anything as the rest of the family took their seats and started passing food around the table. 

“Oi,” Fred cried. Hermione’s head shot up and he was pointing his fork at her, a grin on his face. “You salted my potatoes.”

Hermione arched an eyebrow and took a bite of her own mash. “And now they’re perfect,” she replied with a wink.

In that moment, she decided she wouldn’t bring up the New York promotion. She’d discuss it with Fred when they got home, after they talked about  _ other _ things. Unfortunately, Arthur Weasley was not a Legilimens and couldn’t read Hermione’s thoughts.

“Hermione!” Arthur called as he sat down at the head of the table. “I spoke with Declan the other afternoon. Congratulations on the promotion!” 

Hermione’s face burned as she tried to figure out a way to kill the conversation before it took off. 

“Oh, yeah, well—“ Hermione started.

“You got the department head promotion?” Fred asked excitedly.

“No, actually it’s—“

“Even better,” Arthur interrupted. “North American Liaison! She’ll be working with MACUSA, in New York.”

“I haven’t—“

“New York?!” Fred and George cried in unison. 

“Yes, it’s in New York, but—“

“You can’t move to New York!” George yelled.

“Auntie Min is moving?” Victoire’s voice trembled.

“Please, just—“

“Of course she’s not,” Fleur consoled, looking at Hermione. “Are you?”

Hermione threw her hands over her face and moaned. A shrill whistle blasted across the table and rendered everyone silent. Hermione peeked between her fingers and saw Molly had stood up and was shooting daggers at her family. The next instant though, her face softened and she smiled at Hermione.

“Let the poor girl speak and explain herself, for heaven’s sake,” Molly instructed, sitting back down.

Hermione slowly lowered her hands and her lips trembled when she caught the look on Fred’s face. He said nothing as he stared at her, shock and despair replacing his earlier glow.

“Yes, I got  _ offered  _ the position. Yes, it would mean I’d have to move to New York. But, I cannot stress this point enough, I have  _ not  _ made a decision on it.” She looked at Fred, silently pleading with him to be understanding and not jump to conclusions. “I only found out about it Friday afternoon and there’s a lot to consider before making such a big commitment.”

The table stayed silent as Hermione chewed her bottom lip and ran her fingers through her curls. The kitchen timer went off and Hermione jumped out her seat. “Cookies,” she muttered, dashing to the kitchen. She pulled the trays from the oven, set them on the stovetop, then snuck out the back door. 

In the back garden she breathed in the fresh air and open space. She only wanted a minute to clear her mind and gather her thoughts before going back in and facing Fred. Of all the ways she wanted to broach the subject with him, what just transpired was at the very end of her list. She couldn’t blame him for being hurt.

“Hermione?”

Hermione looked up and smiled as Ginny came outside and wrapped her in a hug, 

“Did something happen between you and Fred?” Ginny asked softly.

“Why? Did he say something?”

“No, but when you left the table he said he wasn’t feeling well and left, without any more explanation.”

“Dammit,” Hermione moaned. She pulled the elastic from her hair so she could properly run her hands through it while she filled Ginny in on what had happened before dinner started. At the end of the story, her hair felt like it was a foot taller and her bottom lip was on the verge of bleeding. “I can’t believe he just up and left!”

“He looked pretty distraught. Can you blame the poor guy?” Ginny said tentatively. 

“No, I understand,” Hermione sighed. She let her hands fall defeatedly at her sides. “I just hate that he had to hear about it that way. I’ll give him time to cool off and head home after dessert. Hopefully he’ll be more open to talk then.”

Ginny nodded and the two headed back to the dinner table. Hermione barely talked for the rest of the meal, longingly looking at the empty place across from her. She stayed long enough for Victoire to present her with her special cookie and plead with Hermione not to move away. Hermione did her best not to cry as Bill coaxed his daughter to keep handing out cookies. After her offering to help clean up was shooed away by Molly, Hermione said her goodbyes and flooed home. 

The living room and kitchen were quiet and empty. Fred’s bedroom door was shut.  Hermione gave three hesitant knocks and called, “Fred? Can we talk please?” She heard shuffling behind the door, but it stayed closed. “Fred, please talk to me. Please?”

After a minute with still no response, Hermione hid herself away in her own room and cried herself to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

November 2002

 

Fuck New York. Fuck relationships. Fuck the Ministry. Fuck H—

“Fuck!” Fred yelled, tossing a bat spleen into the boiling cauldron. The boiling green liquid sloshed over the side and started burning a hole through the work table. He quickly vanished the spilled concoction and repaired the table. 

“What the hell?” George called, bursting through the door. He looked around wildly, before settling on Fred’s face. “Oh, just another one of your tantrums.”

“Fuck off,” Fred muttered, stirring the cauldron’s contents.

“Your vocabulary these last few days has astounded me. Care to talk about what’s pissing you off?”

“You know what’s pissing me off. What use is there talking about it?” Fred said mournfully. He hadn’t told his twin about kissing Hermione at Sunday dinner. He felt humiliated and slightly betrayed that she had kissed him back without telling him about the new job prospect. It had been two days since then, and if he wasn’t working, he stayed closed up in his room.  

“Because if you keep it all pent up, I fear you’re going to go crazy and burn down the store. I know you’re not talking to Hermione about anything. Could you at least talk to me?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to burn down the store,” Fred said, putting jars of ingredients back on the shelves. “Really though, what’s there to talk about? She got a promotion that’s going to be good for her career and I’m happy for her.”

“Bullshit,” George spat.

“What do you want me to say George? Obviously I’m not happy, but what can I do?”

“Talk to the girl for starters! You have no clue what is going through her mind right now. She said herself that she hadn’t made a concrete decision. For all you know, she could have said no and is planning to stay in England.”

“I don’t want your advice, thanks.”

“You just asked ‘but what can I do’!” George roared.

“It was a rhetorical question! Can’t you just be supportive and sympathetic?” Fred yelled.

“I have been nothing but supportive and sympathetic with your arse for months now!” George yelled back. “I don’t know what else I can do for you Fred! You’ve dug your own hole here, and now it’s up to you to fix it. And the only way you’re going to be able to do that is talk to Hermione about how you feel. At least  _ try  _ and persuade her to stay!”

“It’s no use!” Fred screamed, chucking a jar of eel hearts against the wall. He stumbled back onto a stool and watched his slimy mess creep down the pale blue paint. “It’s no use,” he repeated. He’d took a breath and looked up at his brother. “When have you ever known Hermione Granger to choose a relationship before her career? I doubt me telling her I’m in love with her is going to make any difference to her plans.”

“Hold up,” George said, taking a step towards Fred. “You’re in love with her?”

Fred groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I am, but it doesn’t change anything. She’s going to New York and it’s just best I keep my distance from her until she’s gone.”

“Keep your distance? You live with her!” George shook his head in disbelief. “Look, she’s meeting us for dinner in twenty minutes. You go alone and talk to her.”

“No, I’m fi— I’m just going to stay here. Need to keep working on these fireworks kits.”

“Fred, we can do that any time. You really should—“

“No, George. Just go. I’ll see you when you get back.”

George gave a sigh of defeat and left, slamming the door behind him. Fred turned back to the hissing cauldron and tried to focus all his attention on the task at hand and not the fact that it felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest, piece by piece, and ground into the dirt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Hermione had no idea what to do about anything anymore. Fred was completely ignoring her. He refused to come to dinner on Tuesday night and even refused the dinners she made at home. She’d wake to find the warming charms taken off and the meals left to wilt on the counter. He was still working late nights at the shop, so she attempted to wait up for him and catch him off guard when he got home. He must have foreseen that, though, and came home well after the time Hermione had succumb to sleep on the couch. 

Thursday came and Fred had still not spoken a word to her since accusing her of salting his mashed potatoes. Hermione smiled at the memory and in that moment felt like her decision had been made for her. At the end of the work day, she sat down and talked to her supervisor, then went home, planning to do battle with Fred the following night.

Friday evening, she cranked her music up louder than usual as she cooked dinner and hyped up her courage. She had fought against some of the the most dangerous dark wizards and won. Surely she could handle a Weasley! Still, The Beatles’ Helter Skelter started playing and she clicked the volume up one more notch.

After she ate, Hermione brewed a pot of coffee and settled down on the couch. She flicked through the channels on the television, but struggled to really get into any one show. 

By midnight she had finished the entire pot of coffee, four episodes of East Enders, and a leftover bar of Honeydukes chocolate. She had been to the bathroom several times and her nerves were jittery from all the caffeine. The good news was that she was not in the least bit tired. She’d stay up until dawn if she had to. 

Hermione turned the television off and started cleaning the kitchen to keep her occupied. Luckily, she did not have to wait until dawn for Fred to come home. The floo sounded at ten to one and Hermione aimed a nonverbal spell at the hallway to Fred’s room. She could hear him kicking off his trainers on the hearth rug and then padding through the living room. When he tried to go down the hall, he hit Hermione’s invisible wall and was tossed back with a yelp. He skidded into the kitchen, on his backside, scowling at Hermione.

“What the hell are you playing at Granger?” Fred yelled, scrambling to his feet.

“We need to talk. Sit down,” Hermione said simply, nodding her head towards a seat at the table that had a plate of heated up food on it.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Drop your spell and let me get to my room.”

“On the contrary, I think we have quite a bit to talk about, and I’m not going to let you ignore me anymore. So put on your big boy robes and talk to me like an adult!” Hermione could feel the caffeine and adrenaline coursing through her veins and took a long, deep breath. “Why have you been avoiding me all week?”

“If you can’t figure that out then maybe we should reconsider the title ‘Brightest Witch of her Age’,” Fred muttered, sitting down in front of his dinner. He picked up the fork, but just poked at the sausages. “You knew about this job in New York and still kissed me! You let me put myself out there, knowing full well it would only lead to disappointment!”

“You really shouldn’t be left alone with your thoughts, Fred Weasley.” Hermione tossed her sponge into the sink and started washing her hands. “First off, I’ve been waiting for you to put yourself out there for a while now. How was I to know you were going to choose Sunday dinner at your parents’ house to make your move.” She dried her hands and went to stand across from him. “And, if you remember, I said that afternoon that I hadn’t made a decision yet.”

“I know what you said. But it was pretty obvious what your decision was going to be. So… whatever. Go to New York and have an awesome career and an awesome new life.” Fred let his fork clatter to the plate.

“If that’s how you feel, then fine. I can’t see any good reason to stay.” Hermione pointed her wand at the hall and lifted her barrier spell. “You’re free to go.”

Fred didn’t move though. He glared at her and said, “What are you talking about, no good reasons? There are plenty of reasons for you to stay!”

“Give me one.”

“How about your best friend is about to have a baby?”

“I wouldn’t leave until after the baby is born. Plus, it’s not like I’m her only support. What else you got?”

Fred glared at her and said, “What about your family?”

“What family? The distant cousins that I never speak to, or my parents that live in Australia?” Hermione forced back a grin, knowing she was finally starting to crack him. “I don’t think it’ll make a difference to them if they have to fly to New York instead of London.”

“You have more family than that and you know it.”

“New York isn’t on another planet, Fred. It’s not hard for me to just come back and visit everyone.”

“It’s not the same!” Fred cried, slamming his fist on the table and jumping to his feet. “Dammit, Hermione! Don’t go to New York!”

“Then give me a reason to stay!” Hermione yelled at him.

“Because I need you to stay!”

Fred was breathing heavy, his chest heaving under the weight of his confession.

“I need you to stay,” he repeated. Hermione tentatively stepped around the table, moving closer to him. “I need to come home at night and hear you singing. I need you around to tell me how charming my horrible table manners are. I can’t stand going a day without seeing your face or hearing your voice, and now I’ve gone five and it’s been absolute torture!” A few tears escaped down his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck and Hermione took another step closer. “ _ I _ need  _ you _ . Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yes, you stupid prat!” Hermione laughed, slapping his arm. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

She grabbed Fred’s shirt collar and pulled him towards her until their lips met. He made an attempt to pull back, but Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him even closer. Without another moment’s hesitation, Fred’s arms wound around her waist and his lips parted. His tongue flickered against hers and he suckled on her bottom lip. Hermione gave a hum of amusement when he grabbed her bum and lifted her up so he could deepen the kiss. She wrapped her legs around his waist and buried her fingers in his hair as his tongue explored every crevice of her mouth. 

“Wait,” Fred rasped, painfully breaking the kiss and leaving Hermione in a pout. “What does this mean?”

“It means,” Hermione breathed against his lips. “You’ve been a sulky git for nothing because I turned down the New York position. They promoted me to Department Head.”

“So, you’re staying?”

“Yes, I’m staying. Right here. With you. If that’s okay?”

“That sounds perfect.” He held her tight and kissed her again. “If I try to go to your room, will I get knocked on my arse again?”

Hermione chuckled and leaned into his ear. “Yes, but in a much nicer way,” she whispered, licking his earlobe.

A growl escaped his throat and Hermione laughed as he quickly carried her off, down the hall to her bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Hermione sighed contentedly against Fred’s bare chest, listening to his heart beat out a steady, calming rhythm. She smiled as he nuzzled her curls and kissed her forehead. She tilted her head back so that his mouth could slip down to her lips. Outside, a cloud moved and allowed moonlight to spill through the window. The glow lit up Fred’s brown eyes as he stroked his thumb down her cheek.

“I’ve wanted to be this close to you for so long now,” he whispered, letting his fingers slide over her lips. Hermione softly kissed his fingertips as they passed. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

“I can’t say you haven’t driven me completely insane these last few months,” Hermione laughed. “But, you were worth the wait.”

Hermione snuggled back against his chest and Fred pulled the blankets tight over them. She was so tired and comfortable, but there was a question begging to be answered. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Pretty sure you just did,” Fred yawned, and Hermione pinched his side. “Ow! Of course, ask away.”

“When did your feelings for me start to change?”

“What do you mean?”

“When did you start thinking of me as possibly being more than just a friend?” Hermione pulled back slightly so she could see his face again. “It’s been something I’ve been wondering about for a while now. What suddenly changed on your end?”

“I don’t know if I can pinpoint when it changed.” He reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear. “It happened kind of gradually, over those early months after Harry and Ron left. You started coming ‘round the shop more often and I got to know you better, see a few different sides of you that I hadn’t noticed before. Eventually I realized that I was utterly intrigued by you and my thoughts were crossing the boundaries of friendship.”

“Huh...If I had known that I would’ve started coming to the shop before Harry and Ron left.” Hermione went to nestle back in beside him, but it was Fred’s turn to pull back.

“What’s that mean?”

“Nothing. Let’s get some sleep,” Hermione urged, tugging at his arm.

“Nuh uh, I get to ask to ask the same question. Come on, spill it. When did things change on your end.”

Hermione moaned and covered her face with her hands. “How specific do you want me to get?” she asked, peeking between her fingers.

Fred propped himself up on a elbow and grinned at her. “Exactly how specific can you get?”

“Year, month, day, approximate time,” Hermione murmured, letting her head collapse on the pillow.

“Yeah, all of that.”

Hermione sat back up and looked down at Fred, a shy grin on her face. “The Quidditch World Cup—“

“So since August?”

“Quidditch World Cup, nineteen ninety-four,” Hermione finished.

Fred’s brow furrowed and she could see his mind working through the math. 

“Eight years?”

“You think I’m mental now, don’t you?” Hermione started chewing on her bottom lip.

Fred reached up and tugged her lip from the clutches of her teeth. “Stop, that’s my job now.” Hermione giggled as he sat up. “Darling, I’ve known you’re mental for some time now. I’m very curious, though, about what happened at that World Cup that made you see me in a different way.”

“It was after the match, when the Death Eaters were wreaking havoc. You remember, we were all supposed to stick together and get to the clearing, but we ended up losing Harry?”

“I remember. We almost ended up losing you, too, in all that chaos. Scared the hell out of me when I looked back and you weren’t there. Thank Merlin you were only…” Fred trailed off as clarity set in. “I doubled back to find you.”

“I had tripped and fell. The others didn’t notice and kept running, but you came back for me,” Hermione said, reaching out and finding his hand. “You helped me up and held my hand as we ran. You wouldn’t let go, even when we reached the clearing and were waiting for your dad. You held onto me and made me feel safe.”

Fred leaned in until their noses were touching and asked, “You were so sure back then it was me. How do you know it wasn’t George, and you’ve been crushing on the wrong twin all this time?”

Hermione smirked and gave a slight shake of her head. “I’ve been able to tell you two apart long before the ears were a giveaway.”

“Hmm, most impressive. Even Mum and Dad still struggle with that.” Fred chuckled and hooked an arm around Hermione’s waist. He fell back onto the mattress, pulling her onto his chest. “You’ve fancied me for eight years!” he teased.

“ _ Off and on, _ for eight years,” Hermione corrected. “I’d gotten very good at keeping it to a mild crush until you started flirting with me! You just had to go and throw a wrench into the works.”

“I like to think I simply tweaked a few gears for the better.” He pulled the blankets over them once more and nuzzled her neck. “Goodnight, Hermione.”

“Goodnight, Fred.”

Wrapped in the warm blankets and Fred’s arms, it didn’t take Hermione long to drift off to a blissful sleep. She didn’t wake once until the sun was streaming brightly through the curtains and Fred’s coughing broke into her dreams. She pulled the covers over her head and rolled to face Fred.

“Fred?”

“Hmm?” he answered, his face buried in the pillow.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You keep coughing.”

Fred raised his head and frowned, just as Hermione heard the cough again. 

“I thought that was you,” he said, pursing his lips. 

Hermione slowly pulled the blankets down and glanced over at the door. There was Ginny, leaning against the frame with the biggest smile on her face. 

With a little wave, Ginny greeted, “Morning!”


	12. Chapter 12

“How long have you been standing there, Gin?” Fred groaned. As he rubbed his eyes and sat up, he pulled the blankets with him. Hermione gave a yelp of surprise and yanked the covers back over her chest, causing Ginny to giggle. “Sorry, Min.”

“I’ve been here in the flat for about a half hour. I thought you were at the shop,” Ginny explained, gesturing at Fred. “And I thought Hermione had popped out and was just running late for our date. Then George floo called, wondering where the hell you were. I got suspicious and now here I am.”

Fred looked down at Hermione and asked, “A date? How many Weasleys do you plan on juggling at one time? Should I write out a rotation?”

“We’re going out furniture shopping, for the baby,” Hermione laughed. She rolled over, grabbed her wand from the nightstand, and summoned her bathrobe. 

“You never told me you were going out furniture shopping.”

“That’s what happens when you’re a stubborn git. You get left out of plans. What time is it?”

“Eleven-Thirty,” Ginny answered. 

“Shit,” Fred moaned. He was supposed to be at the shop by eight that morning. George was sure to be fuming by now.

“Give me a quick fifteen minutes to shower and I’ll be ready to go,” Hermione said to Ginny. His sister smirked at them before leaving and closing the door. “We were supposed to leave at eleven to have lunch and then pick out baby furniture,” Hermione explained, slipping out of bed and shrugging on her robe. 

“Why didn’t my sister seem more surprised to find us in bed together?” Fred retrieved his boxers from the floor and pulled them on. 

“Because she’s my best friend and I tell her things.”

Fred came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Did you tell her you’ve fancied me for eight years.”

“No, that has been my own little secret.” Hermione twisted around craned her neck back to look at him. “She’s only known for a few months.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his chin, grumbling, “I need to grow a few inches.”

“Come here,” Fred laughed. He sat down own the edge of the bed, pulling Hermione onto his lap. “I can adjust.” He kissed her and fairies fluttered in his stomach when her lips melted into his. He could definitely get used to this. 

“I shouldn’t keep your sister waiting,” Hermione whispered.

“She’s a patient lass,” Fred said dismissively, kissing her again.

As if on cue, Ginny’s voice rang through the hallway, “If you two are in there snogging, I swear I’ll hex you both!”

“You were saying?” Hermione laughed. She quickly kissed him one more time and hurried out the door, to the bathroom. Fred briefly thought about sneaking in and joining her in the shower, but he figured he had already tested his siblings’ patience enough. He dug his jeans out from under Hermione’s bed and made his way out to the kitchen. Ginny was sitting at the table, grinning like a cheshire cat.

“Did you have a nice night?” she teased. 

“Very nice, thank you for asking.” Fred rummaged through the refrigerator until he found leftover sausages and roast potatoes. He arranged them on a plate and popped them into the microwave. “You’ve used this blasted thing before. How long should I set the timer for without setting off the damn smoke alarm?”

“One minute should do the trick.”

Fred carefully punched up the numbers and started the microwave. “Was George upset when he called earlier?”

“I can’t say he seemed pleased but, once you tell him why you’re late, I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”

“I’ll tell him…eventually. Until then, you’re sworn to secrecy,” Fred warned. 

Ginny frowned and asked, “Why wouldn’t you tell him today?”

“I just want to have a chance to enjoy things without family asking too many questions. You know as soon as I tell Mum, she’ll start talking about wedding plans.” Fred pulled a mock disgusted face as the microwave beeped. He pulled out the steaming plate of unburned food and gave a victorious whoop. “It’s gonna be a good day,” he declared as h into a seat and started cutting up the sausages. 

Ginny laughed and said, “It’s the little things in life, isn’t it? So, how do you know I won’t ask too many questions?” 

“Oh, I’m sure you will. But Min gets to field those,” he answered, popping a potato in his mouth. 

“What do I get to do?”

Fred glanced up from his plate as Hermione came into the kitchen. She had on a pair of faded jeans and a long sleeved, black t-shirt, with a picture of a mouth, sticking out a tongue. The words ‘The Rolling Stones’ were written across the chest. Her hair was still damp and hanging past her shoulders. 

“Answer my nosey sister’s inevitable questions,” Fred said, his cheeks stuffed with food.

“Charming,” Hermione teased, pouring a glass of orange juice. “Oh, you actually used the microwave without filling the flat with smoke.”

“I’m offended by your surprise.” Hermione waved him off and pulled a granola bar form the cupboard. “What, or who, are The Rolling Stones?” Fred asked.

“A muggle band. You’ve heard them before. They’re the ones that sing that Satisfaction song.” 

“Oh yeah, I like that one.” Fred started humming the song as he finished off his breakfast of leftovers. Fred had come to find that he liked a lot of Hermione’s muggle music, but he was horrible at remembering all of the band names.

Hermione performed a quick drying spell on her hair and then tucked her wand into her pocket. “Okay, I’m ready.” She turned to Fred and smiled. “Would you and George be up for putting baby furniture together tonight?”

“How could I pass up such a romantic evening?” Fred said, dropping his fork onto the empty plate. “Yeah, but I was just telling Gin to keep quiet about what she saw this morning. So mum’s the word around him tonight.”

“Arrive with a nice dinner and I’ll play pretend for a night,” Hermione bargained, running her hands up his arms. 

“What’s the little one keeping down these days?” Fred asked, turning to his sister.

“I’ve been craving a really good chicken lo mein lately,” Ginny answered, rubbing her stomach.

“Chinese takeaway it is.” He wrapped his arms around Hermione’s waist and looked up expectantly. “I’ll see you around six-thirty then.”

“We’ll be waiting.” Hermione leaned forward and kissed his waiting lips. “Don’t keep your brother waiting too long.” One last kiss. with the promise of, “See you tonight,” and her and Ginny linked arms and apparated away, leaving the flat quiet. 

Fred left his dirty plate in the sink and started rushing to get ready. He got into the shop just after twelve o’clock.

“You better have a good reason for being late on an ‘effing Saturday!” George yelled before Fred even had a chance to step into the front of the shop. “And if that reason isn’t because you were dead, it’s about to become your reason.”

Fred forced the huge grin off his face and stepped through the curtain. “Sorry. Hermione ambushed me last night. We ended up staying up late to talk things over and I forgot to set the alarm.”

George gave him a suspicious look. “So, she finally forced you to talk?”

“The mad woman hyped herself up on caffeine and waited for me. And then she wouldn’t let me get to my room.” Fred took over the position at the register and started ringing up the next customer’s purchase. He didn’t have a chance to finish his explanation. The next hour was filled with a steady stream of people. Fred held down the till while George bustled about the store, answering questions and directing customers to various products.

Just after one, there was a lull and George made his way back to the counter. “Did Hermione set you straight then?”

Fred nodded. “Yes, and you’ll be happy to know I was declared a git and a prat several times over.”

“That’s stating the obvious.”

Fred ignored his twin’s comment and continued, “Good news is that she turned down the New York position and is staying here.”

“That is good news. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking my lunch break. I  _ might _ be back by closing.” George slipped on his coat and started for the door.

“Oh, George,” Fred called. “The girls asked if we would go over to Gin’s tonight. They’re out buying baby furniture and want help putting it all together.”

His brother groaned, but nodded. “You’re a real pain in the arse today you know that? But yeah, I’ll go. Ang is at her sister’s for the night so I really don’t have anything better to do.”

George said his farewell just as another round of customers poured into the shop, making Fred wish wizard-kind would hurry up and perfect a cloning spell. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you think about this one Gin?” Hermione asked for what felt like the millionth time that afternoon, standing in front of a blond oak nursery set. Her friend looked up from the white crib she had been inspecting and her lip gave a disapproving twitch. Hermione let her head drop in defeat.

The pair had been shopping for several hours and besides a few purchases of curtains, bottles, and blankets, they had made no dent in furnishing the impending child’s bedroom. They were currently in their fifth store and Ginny couldn’t make a final decision on any of the furniture sets they found.

“I’m sorry Min,” Ginny said, walking over and laying her head on Hermione’s shoulder. “I know I’m being picky and irritating.”

Hermione patted Ginny’s arm and said, “You know, the baby isn’t going to care what you put it in. It’ll just scream when you try and put it down anyway.”

“I know,” she giggled. “It’s not that any of these are horrible. I just don’t envision them in the room, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I get ya. How about this? There’s one more shop on our list. If something doesn’t jump out at you there, we go back to that second shop and get the cherry oak set that you sort of, kind of liked. Sound like a good plan?”

“I guess so,” Ginny conceded. “That one’s probably the one I liked the most out of them all.”

“Sweetheart, it’s either that or your kid sleeps on the floor. My feet are killing me. I can’t imagine what yours feel like at the moment.” Hermione linked her arm with Ginny’s and started walking to the exit.

“Oh, my feet are so swollen right now. I doubt I’ll be able to get these trainers off until the baby is born.”

Hermione laughed as they started the painstaking trek down the street, to the last store.  As Ginny set off for the furniture section, Hermione drifted off to look at the racks of adorable clothes. 

Ginny had decided not to find out if she was having a boy or a girl, so naturally the whole family had put bets on the baby’s gender. Even Molly had thrown in a few sickles, insisting that she would be getting another granddaughter. Hermione had staunchly abstained from betting, claiming that she didn’t care if she had a goddaughter or godson; as long as baby and mummy were both healthy, she’d be happy. Secretly though, she was certain that her best friend was carrying a little boy and that he would look exactly like his father. 

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Hermione chose a few boy outfits, including what had to be the tiniest Holyhead Harpies kit she had ever seen. Boy or girl, she knew the Potter baby would be dressed in that. As she was paying for her purchase, Ginny’s voice sounded from across the store.

“Hermione! This is it! This is the one!”

Hermione shoved her receipt in the bag and hurried to find her friend. Ginny was slowly circling an antique white colored crib. It had a high backboard that boasted a beautiful painted scene of a child being pushed on a swing, hung from a tree, by his parents. As with all magical pictures, the painting’s subjects moved; the tree’s leaves rustled gently in an imaginary breeze as the little boy swung higher and higher, until his feet almost touched the leaves, before slowing back down to start the scene over again. The two short sides of the crib had the same tree painted, sans swing and child, swaying to and fro.

“It’s perfect,” Hermione declared, running her hand along the top rail. “I’ll go get one of the salespeople.”

Along with the crib came a matching set of dressers, a changing table, and gliding rocker. Ginny also sprung for a bassinet so that she could keep the little one in her room for the first few months. 

An hour later the two girls were sunk into the couch at Ginny’s house. Hermione had gently eased her friend’s shoes off and iced them to bring down some of her swelling. She had let herself be talked into giving Ginny a foot massage (not that it took much persuading), and Hermione had even suggested painting her toenails, since her friend’s ever-growing middle was holding her back from that ability. 

“You know, you and my brother are cute together,” Ginny said as Hermione started applying a coat of hunter green polish to her toenails. 

Hermione, seated cross legged with Ginny’s feet in her lap, glanced up at the redhead and smiled. As soon as they had sat down for lunch, Ginny had started begging for details. Hermione told her just about everything, leaving out the things that nobody wants to hear about their siblings. She also left out the part where she told Fred about how long she’d had a crush on him. It wasn’t huge, life altering information. Hermione just enjoyed having that little secret as something only her and Fred shared. 

“You don’t think it’s weird that I’ve now dated two of your brothers?” Hermione asked tentatively. 

Ginny snorted a laugh. “You actually call what you and Ron did dating? Harry and I’ve always called it a two week experimental disaster.”

“Well, that’s nice to know,” Hermione said, sticking out her tongue. “It was more of a ‘Thank-Merlin-We’re-Alive’ sort of fling. But, a relationship nonetheless.”

“Whatever you call it, I don’t think you dating Fred is weird. On the contrary, he’s a far better match for you than Ron ever was.”

“How do you figure? Not that I’m arguing of course.” Hermione put a final swipe on Ginny’s pinky toe and moved onto the the other foot.

“I just see you balancing each other out. He’s able to loosen you up and get you to have fun where you usually wouldn’t. And on the flip side, you keep him grounded and call him an arse when his head gets too big for his shoulders.” Ginny sat up slightly and adjusted the pillow behind her back. “So, when’s the wedding?”

“You Weasleys are incorrigible!” Hermione giggled, gently blowing on Ginny’s toes. “I can see why Fred doesn’t—“

Her sentence was cut short by the sound of the floo. Hermione looked up and saw Fred stepping out of the fireplace with two paper bags that were emitting tantalizing smells. As he kicked off his trainers, George appeared beside him, carrying a bottle of red wine and a bottle of sparkling mineral water.

“You can see why Fred doesn’t what?” Fred asked, narrowing his eyes a Hermione, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Nevermind, girl talk,” Ginny said airily.

“It looks like you ladies had a rough afternoon,” George said sarcastically, eyeing up Ginny’s relaxed position and the bottle of polish in Hermione’s hand. 

“You scoff, but it really was painful,” Hermione answered, standing up and helping Ginny to her feet. “Plus, the baby could come anytime now and Ginny’s feet should look presentable when they’re up in the stirrups.”

“Ahhhhggg!” The brothers made identical disgusted sounds and faces, and darted for the kitchen.

“What?” Hermione asked innocently, following the boys.

“You said stirrups,” Ginny giggled.

Hermione grinned and said, “I know. I just wanted to see their reactions. You didn’t disappoint,” she said, winking at George as she opened up one of the paper bags and pulled out cartons of fried rice. 

“You think you’re so cute,” George replied. He opened up a container of won tons and tossed one at Hermione’s head. 

“I know I’m cute,” Hermione said, shoving the won ton in her mouth. “Mmm, so hungry,” she sighed through puffed cheeks.

“Charming,” Fred muttered. He smiled at her and winked when George looked away to unload more food onto the table. 

Together, they got the table set and sat down. Hermione took the seat to Fred’s right, hoping to prevent him from making faces at her during the meal and giving away their secret.

“Fred told me today that you turned down the New York job,” George said, trying to get his fingering right on a set of chopsticks. 

“Yeah, I decided I didn’t like the thought of starting over in a brand new city. So, they promoted me to Department Head, which makes me happy because it’s the position I originally wanted.” Hermione suppressed a laugh as she watched George’s struggle.

“And you couldn’t imagine life without all of our craziness,” George added. Giving up on proper etiquette, he speared a piece of beef on the end of a chopstick.

“Yes, what would I do without the patented Weasley brand insanity in my life?” Hermione reached across the table and carefully arranged George’s fingers around the foreign utensils. “Now, keep the bottom one still and just move the top one to pick things up.”

George made an attempt to follow her instructions, but ended up sending his chopsticks and some broccoli flying across the table. Beside her, Hermione heard Fred snigger. 

“Shut it you. I don’t see you using them,” Hermione scolded, glancing at Fred’s fork.

“That’s because I know the limits to my abilities,” Fred laughed, shoveling chicken and rice into his mouth. 

After dinner, Hermione and Ginny led the twins to the nursery. Boxes and various furniture pieces were spread throughout the room.

“I should have brought another bottle of wine for this,” George muttered, taking in the impending tasks. “Where are we starting?”

Ginny pointed to the box to the right and said, “I thought you guys could start on the crib and I could start hanging the curtains.”

“Good try,” Hermione said, hurrying over to the step ladder. “You can  _ help me _ hang the curtains and we’ll let the boys tackle the crib.” She climbed up the ladder and started hooking up the curtain rods while Fred and George started unboxing crib parts. Ginny stayed planted on the floor, handing Hermione the pale yellow curtains to thread onto the rods. Every now and then she would catch Fred’s eye and receive a small smile, which she’d echo before George had a chance to look up. 

“You girls are still good for helping at the shop next week, right?” George asked.

Before Hermione or Ginny could answer, Fred asked, “Why are they helping at the shop next week?”

“Because Ang and I are going on vacation for the week. I told you about this days ago,” George replied exasperatedly. 

“When? I don’t remember?”

“That doesn’t surprise me. I told you on Wednesday. I tried to catch you in a moment when you weren’t in the middle of a tantrum, but those moments were few and far between so I’m sure you just ignored me.”

Hermione tried to stifle her giggle, but failed, prompting Fred to look at her and purse his lips. “What’s so funny, Granger?”

“Just imagining your tantrums,” Hermione said, still giggling. “But yes, George, I’ll be there right after work all this week. You and Ang decide where you’re going?”

“We decided to spend the week in Greece. Feel free to hang out in our flat if this git throws anymore of his fits,” George said, jerking his head towards his brother. 

“Noted.”

“Hey!” Fred cried.

Hermione grinned at him, but it faltered as she examined the half put together crib. Her brow furrowed and she asked, “Are you boys following the instructions?”

“It’s a pretty straightforward task, Min. There’s only like five pieces,” Fred said, waving his screwdriver over the project.

“I admire your confidence, but those end pieces are backwards.” Fred and George looked at the short sides that they had just attached. “The trees are supposed to face the outside.”

“Oh,” George said, tilting his side from side to side as he inspected the ends. “I thought the trees went inside for the baby to look at.”

Hermione and Ginny simultaneously shook their heads and turned back to the curtains. Once the curtains were hung the girls started assembling the bassinet while the twins continued their crib construction. By the end of the evening, Hermione was sat on the floor, beside Ginny, drenched in sweat and her right hand swollen. Fred and George had gone to take the trash out.

“Okay, the baby can now come anytime it wants I believe,” Hermione sighed, looking around the room and smiling. In addition to getting the furniture set up, they hung shelves and pictures on the wall to bring the room together. “Everything looks perfect.”

“It really does. Thank you so much for helping Min.” Ginny reached her arm around and pulled Hermione close for a side hug. “I have one last favor to ask, and it’s kind of a big one.”

“Anything. What do you need?”

Ginny bit her lip and started wringing her hands. “I was wondering if you could be there when the baby is born.”

“Like,  _ with you _ with you? In the delivery room?”

“Yeah, as my birth coach.”

Hermione turned so that she could face her best friend. “Are you sure? Wouldn’t you rather have your mum there with you?”

“I love my mother, but I don’t want her in the delivery room. I fear she’d take on a ‘mother knows best’ attitude and add more stress. I think with you by my side, I’d be much calmer. If you don’t want to though, I understand.” Ginny frowned and let her hands drop onto her belly.

Hermione placed her hands over Ginny’s and smiled. “Of course I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Oh!” Hermione pulled her hands back quickly as she felt a jolt from Ginny’s stomach.

“I think they baby is happy to hear that,” Ginny chuckled. 

Hermione gingerly placed her hand back on Ginny’s belly and grinned as the baby kicked several more times. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

“You think it’s a boy too?”

“Yes,” Hermione admitted. “Don’t let it slip to anyone else though.”

“Don’t let what slip?” George asked, walking back in the room, Fred right behind him. “What sort of secrets are you keeping Min?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Hermione teased, pushing herself to her feet. She reached down and helped Ginny up.

“Yeah, I would. That’s why I asked,” George replied, slinging his arm around Hermione’s shoulder. 

“You’ll know when the time is right.”

“Cryptic. I like it.” George tousled her already frazzled hair. “Well, kids, it’s been fun, but I need to get home and pack. Ang will be back tomorrow morning and then we’re off. Try not to totally destroy our life’s work while I’m gone,” George said, pointing to Fred. 

“You act like I’m completely incompetent!” Fred cried. “I helped  _ build  _ the business. I help  _ run  _ the business. Do you really think I’m just going to let it all go to shite in a week?”

“No, but I do enjoy winding you up. See ya next week!” George kissed Hermione and Ginny on their cheeks, gave Fred a firm thwack on the back, then sauntered out of the room.

Hermione smiled as she watched as Fred stare at the door warily. When the whoosh of the floo sounded, he relaxed and hurried over, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

“How come you never told me you were going to be working in the shop this week?”

“We didn’t really do much talking last night,” Hermione said, cocking an eyebrow. “I was a bit preoccupied with—“

“Don’t finish that sentence!” Ginny cried, throwing her hands over her ears. 

“Sorry Gin,” Hermione laughed. “But yeah, George asked me on Tuesday if I could help out. I agreed because, well, mainly I wanted to help you guys out, of course. But also because I figured if you were still avoiding me, you’d at least have to acknowledge my presence in the shop.”

Fred rested his chin atop Hermione’s head and said to Ginny, “You have to promise not to go into labor while you’re with me!”

“We make no such guarantees,” Ginny replied. “You never know. Having a baby born in your store could be good publicity.”

Hermione buried her face in Fred’s sweater and exhaustion started to kick in. She suddenly wanted nothing more than her bed. Stifling a yawn, she asked, “Is there anything else we can help you with tonight?”

“You have done more than enough. Thank you so much.”

“Whatever you need, I’ve got you covered.” Hermione let go of Fred and gave Ginny a hug. “Just promise us you’ll stay off that bloody ladder!”

“I promise,” Ginny muttered, giving Hermione a playful push back to Fred. “Go on home and snog your boyfriend.”

“You heard her, let’s go,” Fred said, grabbing Hermione’s hand and pulling her to the door. “Love you Gin!”

Back at their flat, Hermione kicked off her shoes and collapsed on the sofa. Fred laid down beside her, slipping his hand around to the small of her back. His nimble fingers started kneading tiny circles, and Hermione let out a faint moan.

“There are muscles aching in my body that I didn’t even realize I had.” She tilted her head up and started peppering little kisses along Fred’s neck, breathing in his scent. It was a unique combination of blasting powder, sweat, and aftershave. On exhale, she let an involuntary purr.

“Would you like me to help ease some of those aches?” Fred offered, letting his hand slip lower.

“Yes, please.”


	13. Chapter 13

December 2002

The week Hermione and Ginny agreed to help out in Wizarding Wheezes was the start of the shop’s busiest month. With Christmas right around the corner, owl orders were piled high and there was barely any room to maneuver around the store. Hermione was pretty sure this was George’s way of retaliating for putting up with a week of his brother’s petulance, though Fred took it all in stride. 

The first night, Hermione had stayed late with Fred to learn how to create the various fireworks. She was well aware of the amount of clever and advanced magic that went into all their products, but she still couldn’t hide her amazement at watching how it all came together. It didn’t take long for her to catch on to the the process and for Fred to entrust her with George’s spot at the workstation. It was a good thing he did because even with all the late hours the twins had put in the previous month, it didn’t appear as though their extra stock would last long on the shelves. 

Thursday evening, Hermione entered the shop and was welcomed by the usual bustling crowd. As she gently elbowed a path to the main counter, Fred scurried by, brushing her cheek with a quick kiss and a hurried greeting. He was swallowed up by the crowd before she could respond.

They had fallen into a comfortable routine by then. Fred worked the floor, answering questions and directing the frenzied patrons. Ginny took control of the till and kept an eye on the door, making sure that people only left with what they had paid for. Hermione had taken over the Owl Orders; filling and sealing packages so that they were ready for Fred to post the following morning before opening. 

“Hi, Gin,” Hermione called as she reached the counter. 

“Oh, Hermione! Thank Merlin! This gentleman is looking for a Boxing Telescope, but couldn’t find them. Could you grab one for him, please?” Ginny asked, giving Hermione a flustered look.

“On it.” Hermione slid her purse across to Ginny and made her way back across the shop. After suffering numerous pushes and jabs, she reached the shelf with the telescopes and grabbed one of the last five there. She also grabbed a jar of Bruise Removal Paste from the shelf above. As she started shuffling between customers, she felt a hand reach out and grab her bottom.

“Oi!  _ That _ is NOT for sale!” she cried.

“I should hope not,” Fred’s voice whispered in her ear. 

“Careful there, cheeky. You almost needed some of this paste.”

“Worth it. Come on.” He wrapped an arm around Hermione’s waist and helped guide her back to the counter.

“Here you go, sir,” Hermione said, placing the telescope and paste on the counter. “I highly suggest pairing the Boxing Telescope with this bruise remover. Trust me when I say I know from experience.” She shot a stern look at Fred. 

“Thank you!” the man replied as Ginny rang up his purchase.

Hermione turned to Fred and seized her chance to give him a proper kiss. “How high is the stack of Owl Order forms?”

“Let’s just say don’t let them fall over on you. It’ll take days to dig you out.”

“Lovely,” Hermione groaned. With one last sigh and kiss, she dragged herself behind the curtain and carefully grabbed a handful of parchments. She spent the next three hours sorting through stockroom merchandise and packing up parcels. As the order form pile dwindled, her wall of boxes grew. At the bottom of the parchment pile, she found a bright yellow envelope, addressed to the three of them in George’s untidy scrawl. She set it aside to open when the shop closed.

She finished up her orders and, with her wand, sent the final box soaring to the top of the pile. With a sigh of relief, she grabbed George’s letter and peeked out into the shop. The last few customers were checking out and Fred was sweeping through the shop, reorganizing the shelves and picking up litter from the floor. Seizing the few moments that she was unnoticed, she watched as he flicked his wand and righted a stack of Nose Biting Teacups. 

It had been a wonderfully surreal week with him. Her stomach did somersaults with every kiss and touch, and she hadn’t yet had to spend a night in an empty bed. If you didn’t count Alistair (and strangely enough, Hermione didn’t), she hadn’t had a steady boyfriend in quite some time. As much as she had been hoping to turn her friendship with Fred into more, she had also been anxious about how the transition would play out, and if there would be any awkwardness. After that first night together, all her worries had dissolved. The two had fallen into a pleasantly strange phase that had the excitement of a new relationship, yet with the familiarity of being together for years. 

Hermione tore her eyes away from Fred and opened up George’s letter. She pulled out two pieces of paper. The first was a muggle postcard with a picture of a beautiful, white sandy beach. On the back was a simple message saying ‘Having a wonderful time! See you soon!’ and was signed ‘The Weasleys’. Hermione’s eyebrows about rose into her hair as she looked at the second item. It was a picture of George and Angelina were on the beach smiling up at her, waving and holding up their left hands that were adorned with matching gold bands. Hermione started giggling, which caught Fred’s attention. 

“What’s tickled your funny bone,” he asked as he showed the final customer out and locked the door.

Hermione held up the picture and said, “You guys have a new sister.”

“What?!” Ginny cried. Quicker than Hermione thought possible, she jumped from her stool and snatched the picture away before Fred had a chance to dart across store. “Merlin, they actually got married!”

Hermione handed the postcard to Fred. After a few minutes, he switched with Ginny and shook his head. Looking up at Hermione, he smiled and said, “Looks like your little marriage speech actually had some sway on him.”

“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked. She summoned boxes from the back to start restocking shelves.

“At the restaurant, when we were in Egypt for the World Cup.”

Hermione chuckled and said, “I don’t know if I would say that swayed him. Maybe gave him a gentle nudge in the right direction. I can’t believe they went and eloped though.”

“Wait, can you hear that?” Ginny whispered, holding up a finger and cocking her head. Fred and Hermione froze and stared at her. “If you listen very closely, you can hear the faint sound of Mum’s heartbroken cries echoing up and down the countryside.”

“Aww, your poor mother,” Hermione bemoaned, putting a hand on her heart. “I do not envy your brother when he returns.” Hermione started restocking the fireworks section and Fred went back to the work room to get a head start on the next round of fireworks. Ginny waddled over and started pulling packs out of the box for Hermione. “You know Gin, you don’t have to stay so late every night. I’m sure you’re exhausted by this time, after being here all day.”

Out of nowhere, Ginny broke down crying, “I’m too scared to go home!” She dropped to the floor with her face in her palms. 

“Oh, Gin!” Hermione crawled around the box and sat down next to her sobbing friend. “What’s going on at home?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s going on! That’s the problem!” Ginny wailed. “I’m all alone and it’s so quiet. And what if I go into labor in the middle of the night? I don’t want to be all by myself! I want Harry home!”

“I know, sweetheart. We all do,” Hermione whispered, stroking Ginny’s hair. She conjured a glass of water and gently eased it into Ginny’s hands. “How long have you been feeling this way?”

Ginny’s breathing was quick and heavy as she tried to calm her sobs. “Since the weekend, when we finished the nursery. This baby really could come at anytime and I’m not ready!”

“Of course you’re—“

“No, I’m not! I don’t know the first thing about being a mum!”

“Listen to me,” Hermione insisted, placing her hands firmly on her friend’s shoulders. “You are great with kids. Victoire and Teddy adore you! You’re going to be a fabulous mum,”

“But what about the part about bringing the baby into world?” Ginny asked in a choked whisper.

“When the time comes, you’ll know what to do. And remember, I’ll be right beside you the whole time.” Ginny looked at Hermione, her chocolate eyes shining. An idea popped into her mind and she smiled warmly. “Why don’t you move back in with me for the next few weeks?”

Ginny gave a morose laugh. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you and Fred just started dating. He’s not going to want his pregnant sister hanging around, cramping his style.” Ginny dragged her sleeve across her nose with a loud sniff. “Plus, there’s only two bedrooms.”

“You can have my room and I’ll move in with Fred for the next month. That way, should the little one start things up in the middle of the night, you won’t be alone.”

“But what about—“

“Fred!” Hermione yelled. 

A moment later Fred’s head appeared from behind the curtain. “What’s up?”

“Ginny’s gonna move back into the flat for a few weeks. I’m giving her my room and moving into yours.”

“Sounds good. You going to help me back here?”

“Give me about twenty more minutes.” Fred nodded and ducked back behind the curtain. “There you have it, roomie.”

“I love you!” Ginny cried, wrapping her arms tightly around Hermione’s neck. “My baby is going to have the best godmother on earth!”

“I love you too, you stubborn girl,” Hermione laughed, returning the hug. “Now, go get your things and get back here to make fireworks with your brother and me.”

“You lot won’t let me climb a ladder, but will happily trust me with highly explosive materials.” Ginny pushed herself to her feet and brushed off her pants. “Your logic astounds me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“I don’t wanna,” Fred whined, pulling the covers over his head. He felt a tug on his ankle and quickly tucked his knees up to his chest.

“Fine, I’ll do it myself,” Hermione said. 

Suddenly, Fred’s pillow was yanked out from under him and dropped back on top of his head. He groaned and lifted his head, letting the pillow fall to the side. “Hermione! Why do you want to ruin this?”

Hermione laughed and tossed her clothes into the laundry basket. “How is telling your family going to ruin anything?”

“Because my family is nosey and in everyone else’s business! They’ll ask questions and start making assumptions.” He flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I like the little bubble we’ve had this week.”

“Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you pout?” Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed and ran her fingers through his hair. “Look, what are we doing here?”

“What do you mean? Right this second?”

“No, not right this second!” She swatted Fred’s chest. “I mean us. Is this just some fling that’s not going to mean anything in a month?”

“No, of course not!” Fred said, horrified. He sat up and grabbed her hands. “You know I want more than that.”

‘Good, cause so do I,” Hermione whispered, planting a kiss on his lips. “I’m not going to lie, I’m enjoying our little bubble too, but you know that we won’t be able to keep it intact much longer. George comes back today and if I’m going to keep helping at the shop, he’s gonna be the first to out us.” She entwined her fingers with his and continued, “Today’s a perfect day. Everyone will be there for Sunday dinner. They can get any questions out of the way. Plus, maybe it’ll take some heat off your brother and his new bride.”

“You’re too nice to him. They dug their own hole with this. I say we skip dinner and let them feel the full wrath of Molly Weasley. We’ll be able to hear the action from here.”

“No. Now get out of bed.”

“Better idea. You come  _ back _ to bed.” Fred fell back onto the mattress, pulling Hermione down with him. “How much time do we have?”

“We’re expected at your parents’ house in an hour.”

“And where’s my sister?”

“Already gone.”

“Perfect,” Fred said, pulling the covers over both of them.

An hour and five minutes later, Fred apparated to the back garden of the Burrow with Hermione. Wrapping her arms around herself, Hermione started hurrying for the back door.

“Hold up,” Fred hissed, grabbing Hermione’s hand and pulling her back. 

“Fred, it’s cold! I want to get inside.”

“If we’re going to tell them today, at least let me have a little fun with it. Can you stay outside the door for just a minute? Please?” Fred begged, folding his hands together.

Hermione sighed and waved him on. “Make it quick. And be nice!”

Fred wiggled his eyebrows and ran for the door. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and sauntered into the kitchen. His mother was just pulling a steak and kidney pie from the oven.

“Oh, Fred! Could you move the gravy to the back burner before it starts to smoke, dear?” Molly asked hurriedly. 

“Sure.” Fred moved the pot full of gravy and turned back to Molly. “Hey, Mum. I started seeing a girl this week and invited her to dinner. Is that okay?”

Molly’s face lit up as she exclaimed, “Of course it is! Always room for one more! Where is she?”

“Right outside.”

“Fred Weasley! You can’t let the poor girl out there!” She bustled over to the door and pulled it open, saying “It’s absolutely freezing out there!”

“That’s what I told him,” Hermione’s chattering voice called.

“Oh, hello Hermione! Get in here before you get frostbite!” Molly scolded, waving her inside. “I was just looking for Fred’s new girlfriend.”

“You found her,” Hermione said breathlessly. She walked over and gave Fred a shove. He caught her arms and pulled her close, briskly rubbing his hands up and down her chilled arms.

“Oh, you two,” Molly sighed, turning back to her food preparations. “It’s a bit early for April Fool’s jokes.”

“What do mean, Mum?”

“How did he talk you into pretending to be his girlfriend, Min?” Molly asked. 

Hermione looked between Fred and his mum. “He’s actually telling the truth this time.”

Molly turned back around and scrutinized the pair. Fred wrapped his arms around Hermione and smiled at his mother. He had expected a bit of shock, but he wasn’t prepared for her to just outright not believe them. 

“It’s true, Mum.” Fred spun around, dragging Hermione with him. Ginny was at the table, setting out the plates and cutlery. “They’ve been dating for a week now.”

“How do you know this before anyone else?” Molly demanded, hands on her hips.

“I’ve moved in with them. Hermione gave me her room to stay in until the baby is born,” Ginny answered simply, before adding, “In case it decides to come in the middle of the night.”

“Hermione gave you her room? Where is Hermione sleep—never mind, I don’t want to know.” Molly sighed and dropped her hands in defeat. “I swear to Merlin, I’m going to drag all of you children back to this house and never let any of you leave again!”

“I’ll go start building the new addition now,” Fred said, kissing his mother’s cheek.

Molly returned the kiss, adding a firm pat to his own cheek. She looked over at Hermione. “Is he treating you well? Being a gentleman?”

“Always,” Hermione answered, with a solemn nod. She wrapped her arms around Fred’s waist and snuggled into his side.

Molly’s face lit up once more and she wrapped them both in a hug. “You two do make a cute couple. Promise me, when you get married you’ll have a proper wedding and don’t pull a runner like your brother.”

“See, I told you,” Fred groaned, burying his face in Hermione’s hair. Where was his father when he needed him? Arthur was the one person able to calm Molly down when she started to get overexcited.

“Let’s see if I still want to keep him around in a month, and then we’ll talk wedding details,” Hermione laughed, rubbing Fred’s back. “What can I do to help?”

“For the moment, everything is good. Ginny has the table all set. We’re just waiting for George and Ang to return,” Molly said, turning back to the stove. 

“Let’s go get front row seats for that show,” Fred whispered, leading Hermione into the living room. 

He sat down in the oversized armchair and moved over so that Hermione could wedge herself in beside him. She laid her head on his shoulder and they watched Victoire chase a wooden dragon around the room. Her giggles filled the room as Bill kept making it roll under the sofa and then peek its head back out. Fred kept shouting out encouraging words to the toddler, egging her on in her quest. 

“Hermione, do you want to frost the cake?” Ginny asked, poking her head around the corner. “We may be starting dinner without the newlyweds if they don’t hurry up.”

“Yup, I’m on it.” Hermione gave Fred’s cheek a quick peck and pushed herself out of the chair.

“Uncle Feddy,” Victoire piped up.

“Yes, darling?”

“Why did Auntie Min kiss you?”

Fred’s grin spread wide as Hermione’s face turned scarlet. “Because she likes me.”

The tiny girl quirked her lips and pressed on. “But I faught she always wiked you. She neber kissed you before.” 

Fred was at a loss for words to that answer and looked at Hermione for help. How do you explain dating to a three year old? But, Hermione just smiled, shook her head, and headed for the kitchen. As Fred struggled for an answer, Fleur threw him a lifeline.

“Auntie Min likes Uncle Freddy as more than a friend and now he’s her boyfriend,” his sister-in-law explained.

“Oh.” Victoire sat silent for a moment, a serious expression on her face. “I have boyfends. Can I kiss dem?”

The look Bill gave Fred was murderous. Fred grimaced and patted Victoire’s head, saying, “Not until you’re seventeen sweetheart.”

He jumped up and scurried to the kitchen. Hermione was just smoothing out a layer of vanilla frosting on a thick chocolate cake. With a tap of her wand, the white frosting turned red and she started piping small roses around the edge. Fred sneaked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. She leaned her head against his as she continued with the decorations.

“Your mum made George and Ang a cake, so I don’t think she’s totally disowned them,” she whispered. Another tap of her wand, and the frosting darkened to a deep maroon. In perfect cursive she wrote out, ‘Congratulations George and Angelina Weasley!’

The floo sounded as Hermione put the final flourish on the cake and Victoire’s squeals of “Uncle Gorg!” rattled the windows. 

“Hey kiddo!” George greeted. 

“You have a lot of explaining to do!” Molly called.

Fred and Hermione stepped to the side as the Weasley matron charged past, just as George and Angelina came through the kitchen doorway. George was holding Victoire, a broad smile on his face and a gold band shining on his left hand.

“Hi Mum!” George greeted, kissing Molly’s cheek before she could tell him off. ”We’re sorry and we love you. It was a spur of the moment thing that just felt right. You’ll forgive us once there’s more grandchildren on the way.”

Molly looked up at George with fire in her eyes. For a moment, Fred thought his mum was going to slug his twin. The fire in her eyes were quickly doused by tears though, and Molly pulled George into a tight embrace. 

“Oh, I’m so happy for you two!” she sobbed, letting go of George and wrapping Angelina in a hug. “I just wish we could have been there with you.”

“Gorg! I gots a seekit!” Victoire squealed, grabbing George’s face and turning it towards her.

“Oooh, do I get to hear it?” George asked. Victoire nodded and leaned down to his right ear and started whispering. George nodded and a grin spread across his face. “Did she really now?” Another nod and a gasp. “Is he?” He turned to Fred and Hermione. “A little bird just told me that Uncle Freddy is Auntie Min’s boyfriend and she gets to kiss him now. Since when?”

“Last week, Friday,” Hermione said, at the same time Victoire cried, “I not a bird!”

George laughed and blew a raspberry on his niece’s cheek. “No, you most certainly are not.” He carried Victoire to her chair and said to Ginny, “He barely made it, but won none the less. Do you want to send the owl, or should I?”

“I’ll give you my half tomorrow morning,” Ginny said, sticking out her tongue.

Fred glanced at Hermione, who just shrugged her shoulders and pushed the cake to the back of the counter. “What are we missing?” he asked, looking between George and Ginny. 

“Nothing you have to worry your pretty little head about,” Ginny answered. She held up her wand and ordered, “Duck.” Fred ducked his head just in time to avoid a collision with the gravy boat. He strode to the table, giving Ginny a rude hand gesture behind his mother’s back. “Real mature,” she muttered.

“Come on, sit, sit!” Molly called, motioning them all to the table. “The food is going to go cold.”

Hermione grabbed the bowl of peas and Fred summoned the bread basket. Hermione took the seat beside Bill and Fred sat across from her. Ginny summoned a bottle of wine and filled everyone’s glasses, except her own and Victoire’s. As Ginny took her seat Arthur stood at his, at the head of the table, and raised his glass. 

“Before we start tucking in to this fantastic meal, I’d like to make a toast.” Arthur turned to George and Angelina and smiled warmly. “George and Ang, we wish you all the happiness in the world as you start this new chapter in your lives. While we couldn’t share in your big day, we look forward to watching your love for each other grow over the coming years. Angelina, welcome to the family!”

Cries of “Cheers!” rang out around the table as George planted a kiss on Angelina’s cheek. Food started to be passed around the table and everyone started loading up their plates with Molly Weasley’s delicious cooking. The first part of of the meal was consumed with details from George and Angelina’s trip. It wasn’t long though before George turned the focus around to Fred and Hermione. 

“So, Min, how did you finally get him to pull his head out of his—“ a sudden loud cough from Fleur stopped George’s sentence short. She nodded at Victoire. “Out of his…his…ah, sod it. How’d you get him to admit he’s in love with you?”

Fred started choking on his potatoes. He tried to muster up a menacing glare at his brother as he wheezed potato bits into his napkin. The relationship was just a week old. He hadn’t even thought of bringing up the L word.

Hermione smirked at Fred before turning to George and saying, “He was a tough nut to crack, but a lot of caffeine and a well aimed shield charm did the trick.”

“Well, whatever you did, I thank you. Now he won’t be such a mopey sod around the shop.”

“Thanks George,” Fred spluttered.

“Oh, speaking of the shop. Ginny and I have decided to stick around and help you out until New Year’s Eve,” Hermione said, spooning more peas onto her plate. “Judging by what we saw this week, you guys are going to need all the help you can get.”

“Oh, speaking of New Year’s Eve!” George exclaimed. “Lee’s party is on!”

Fred’s annoyance with his brother disappeared. “Seriously? At the vacation home?”

“Yup! Party starts at seven. We can go as soon as the shop closes. And for once, you’ll have a date!”

Fred looked over at Hermione eagerly. “Lee’s vacation home is amazing! It’s huge and in this secluded area of Scotland. He’s been trying to plan a New Year’s party there for years now, but something always pops up.”

Hermione frowned. “It sounds great, but unless the baby arrives before then, there’s no way I can go with Ginny’s due date that close. It’ll only be like a week away. You should go though, I’m sure it’ll be a fun night.”

Fred leaned forward and grabbed her hand. “You think I’m going to ring in the new year without you? Silly girl,” he said, running his foot up her leg. George made a gagging noise and Hermione giggled. “I’ll be wherever you are.”

“Min, you should go,” Ginny insisted. Hermione started to protest, but Ginny cut her off. “If the baby isn’t here by then, it’s not like you can’t come back right away should something happen. You haven’t had a New Year’s date for, what? Three years now?” Hermione scowled. “It’s not like I’ll be alone. I’ll be here with Mum and Dad the whole night. You go to the party. And Fred, that’s my leg you’ve been feeling up for the last minute.”

Fred pulled his foot away quickly as his brothers howled with laughter. Hermione smiled and squeezed his hand, before turning back to Ginny. 

“Ok, Gin, I’ll go to the party as long as you promise me you’ll tell me the second any sign that the baby is on the way.”

“Even the slightest niggle and an owl will be heading your way.”

Fred grinned as Hermione said, “Looks like you’ve got yourself a date then Weasley.”

The rest of dinner and dessert went smoothly. Conversation changed course and Fred was spared of any more embarrassment. At the end of the evening, Molly instructed Hermione once more to make sure Fred treated her right.

“You know me Mum. Always the consummate gentleman,” Fred assured, kissing his mother’s cheek. 

“Good night! And behave!” Molly called before the he apparated home with Hermione and Ginny.

Back at the flat, Ginny said a quick goodnight and retreated to Hermione’s bedroom. Hermione started rummaging through the refrigerator, getting things sorted for her lunch the following day.

“Hey, Min…” Fred started, a bit uncertain how he wanted to approach the subject on his mind. 

“Hmm?” she replied, head still in the fridge.

“About what George said earlier. You know, he was just—well, you know George…it wasn’t—I didn’t—“ Fred stuttered over his words, not quite knowing how to put them all together. Hermione closed the fridge door and turned around. “It’s just that, you know, I know, it’s too—“

“Fred, shut up.” Hermione said. 

Before he could respond, her lips were on his and the only thing he could think about was holding her close. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her fingers were running through his hair and he couldn’t help but moan. Hermione pulled back slightly, but he could feel her smile against his mouth.

“I love you too,” Hermione whispered.


	14. Chapter 14

New Year’s Eve 

2002

 

“Hermione, do we have anything left back in the stockroom?” George called across the shop.

Fred glanced behind him and bit his lip, attempting not to laugh at the threatening look on his girlfriend’s face. To her credit, she did not curse his twin into oblivion. She kept her composure and humored George with another stock check, though she may have wrenched the curtains back a bit more violently then she would have on a normal day.

Hermione was up and going with him bright and early that morning, gathering up the last of their meager inventory from the flat and his dad’s workshop. They got to the shop at six, opened the doors at seven, and hadn’t sat down since. Angelina was working the register for them until the afternoon, and then Ginny would finish out the less busy part of the day. Hermione would be leaving when Ginny arrived, as she had said she had a few last minute things to take care of before the party. 

A minute later, Hermione stalked back out to the shop and over to George.

“Aside from a considerable litter of dust bunnies, this is all that is left of your pyrotechnic paraphernalia,” she said, thrusting a pack of Wet-Start Sparklers at George.

“I’ll take them!” a customer cried. Hermione changed direction and handed them off to the waiting patron, who hurried off with the sparklers like they were gold.

Fred watched as Hermione ducked behind the shelves of a deserted aisle. When she didn’t re-emerge, he went to investigate. He found her crouched down, resting against the shelf, with her head leaned back and eyes closed. He smiled and sat down beside her. As soon as his back touched the shelf, Hermione leaned her head against Fred’s shoulder. 

“So, we have nothing left in the form of fireworks?” Fred asked.

“Not unless you want to dip into your personal stash for this evening and risk a throttling from Lee,” Hermione answered.

Fred chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “Why don’t you head out? I’m going to hang a sign that says we’re sold out of fireworks and that should significantly cut down on the chaos. It won’t be long before Ginny is here.”

As if on cue, Angelina’s voice floated through the store, “Hey Ginny!”

“Oh good, she’s here now,” Hermione said. She quickly kissed Fred’s cheek and pushed herself back to her feet. Fred slowly stood and followed Hermione to the counter, where his sister was attempting to heave herself onto the stool with a look of utmost determination. Hermione gripped Ginny’s elbow, attempting to give her some extra leverage.

“Thanks Min,” Ginny breath, clutching her middle.

“Are you still having cramps?” Hermione asked, a worried look plaguing her face as she studied Ginny’s face. 

“Yeah, off and on,” Ginny replied. She waved off Hermione’s unspoken advice, saying, “But it’s fine. Just more Braxton Hicks driving me insane.”

“Maybe we should go to the hospital and make sure,” Hermione suggested.

Fred groaned and Ginny gave him an understanding look. The three of them had been to St. Mungos five times in the last two weeks because of these Braxton Hicks contractions. According to the girls, it was false labor and was just Ginny’s body practicing for the big day. Whatever it meant, it certainly had Hermione on edge and left them all exhausted. 

“Okay,” Hermione relented, patting Ginny’s hand. “Just remember, you let us know right away—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Now, go on. Go get ready for your night.” Ginny gave her best friend a playful shove towards the door.

Hermione turned to Fred and asked, “Will you guys be okay if I head out? I don’t want to leave you short handed.”

“Yes, go do what you have to do and I’ll see you back at the flat in a few hours.” Fred leaned down and kissed her.

“Enough of that! Back to work,” George called as he rushed passed to the stockroom.

“Escape now, while you still can,” Fred whispered against Hermione’s lips. He kissed her once more and summoned her purse from the back. She gave a quick wave to Ginny and Angelina before hurrying out the front door. Fred turned to Ginny and mimicked Hermione’s worried expression. “Are you positive it’s just the Braxton Hickey things again?”

“Braxton  _ Hicks _ , and yes, I’m quite positive,” Ginny reassured.

“What percentage positive are we talking about here?” Fred asked, grabbing some parchment and quill to start on his SOLD OUT sign. “One-hundred? High nineties?”

“Shut it and get back to work,” Ginny scolded. 

After the SOLD OUT sign was posted on the front door, business slowed down almost instantly. Angelina was able to leave in order to start getting ready for the party that evening, allowing the twins to have a rare patch of time alone with their sister. The three sat around joking, reminiscing, and indulging in a stash of sweets from the backroom. As soon as the clock ticked over to six o’clock, George locked the door and turned out the lights.

“I don’t care how dirty this place is or understocked the shelves are, we’re out!” George declared. Fred smirked at his brother. Usually it was himself who was trying to put off the tedious process of closing up shop. George caught the look Fred’s face and shrugged. “We’ll sort it all out when we’re back in two days.”

The boys made sure Ginny safely flooed to the Burrow before George climbed the stairs to his flat and Fred flooed back to his own. As he stepped out of the hearth, he could hear Hermione singing in the bathroom. 

“Sugar, ah honey honey. You are my candy girl, and you’ve got me wanting you,” her voice rang out from behind the door. Fred gave a quick knock on the door and her singing immediately halted, though the music played on. “Fred? Is that you?” Hermione called.

“Yeah, just got home. Any chance I can use the shower soon?”

“Um, yeah, just….just a second.” Fred heard some clattering and the music was suddenly shut off. “Before I open the door, I feel I need to warn you. I was a bit impulsive today.”

“Okay,” Fred said slowly, narrowing his eyes at the door. “That’s not at all worrying for your boyfriend to hear. What did you do?” 

He could hear Hermione take a deep breath and the doorknob slowly turned. The door creaked open and Hermione stepped into view. She was wrapped up in a towel, but instead of her long, chestnut curls flowing over her shoulders, they came to abrupt stop just below her chin. She was gingerly fingering a shortened ringlet, nervously chewing on her bottom lip. 

“I passed the salon, after picking up my dress, and felt the sudden urge for a change,” Hermione started explaining. “Once the stylist started snipping, I just sort of let her go. Do you like it? If you think it’s too short, I can always put a lengthening charm—“

Fred cut her off with a kiss. She let her hand fall from her hair to his chest. As he broke the kiss, his hands caressed her now bare neck and declared, “You could shave off every strand of hair and charm your skin blue. I’d still think you’re the most gorgeous witch on the planet.”

Hermione grinned and ran her hand through her shortened curls. “I’ve never had my hair this short before. I keep feeling like something is missing.”

Fred chuckled and kissed her forehead. “It looks marvelous. Now, what’s a bloke have to do to get a shower around here?”

“Well, you were on the right track with kisses and flattery,” Hermione purred, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting her towel drop to the floor. 

“Mmm….I think a certain dirty witch needs a shower too,” Fred growled, pulling Hermione towards the tub.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Fred, you soon ready?” Hermione called as she cinched the belt on her coat. She gave her makeup one final inspection in the hallway mirror then went to wait in front of the fireplace. She had banished Fred from her bedroom, making him get ready in his own room so she wasn’t distracted as she prepared for the evening. 

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, love. I’m coming,” Fred called back. A moment later, he sauntered into the living room sporting black denim pants, a dark blue, cashmere sweater, with the collar of a light blue, button-up shirt peeking out. “The party’s only just getting started. I like to be fashionably late.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but let a smile sneak across her face as she motioned to the jar of floo powder. Fred grabbed a handful of powder in one hand and pulled Hermione into the fireplace with his other. She squeezed in tight against him as his free hand firmly held her in place. He dropped the floo powder and called out “Lakeside Cottage, Scotland!”

Hermione shut her eyes and clung tight to Fred as they started to spin wildly through the floo network. She hate traveling by floo, even for short distances. The trip north severely tested her motion sickness threshold. It felt like an eternity before they were spat onto a very plush, cream colored carpet. Hermione let go of Fred and doubled over, her hands on her knees. Fred made a move to help her, but Hermione held up her hand and he froze. With eyes closed and her chin tucked down, on her chest, Hermione willed the world to stop spinning. 

“I’m fine,” Hermione reassured Fred’s worried expression. She stood up and took a slow, deep breath. Fred tucked a stray curl behind her ear and gave her a sympathetic smile. 

“Fred! Hermione!” The couple looked behind them and saw Lee hurrying towards them. “Where’s George and Ang?”

“Should be here shortly. They’re bringing all the fireworks,” Fred answered. 

“Great! Well, make yourselves at home. Drinks and food straight through to the kitchen. Finnigan and I will be starting up the music soon. Oh, you grew up with Muggles, right Hermione?” Lee asked, a giddy gleam in his eyes.

“I did,” Hermione said slowly, starting to undo her coat. “Why?”

“He’s put together an eighties playlist for the evening and is getting a bit huffy because I don’t know any of the songs. He’ll be thrilled if you know what he’s talking about. Here, let me take your coats for ya.” Lee held out his hand as Hermione and Fred handed over their jackets. “Go forth and have fun!” he said, giving a wave and hurrying off.

“Wow.” Hermione turned back at the sound of Fred’s voice and found him staring down at her. “Now that’s a dress.” He took her hand and slowly spun her around. 

Hermione blushed slightly as he eyed up her strapless, silver dress. It was a bit more form fitting than what she would usually go for, but she figured for New Year’s Eve she’d spice up her wardrobe a bit. She completed the outfit with a pair of black pumps, adding every comfort and cushioning charm she knew to them.

“Where exactly does one hide a wand with a dress like that?” Fred joked, leading her towards the kitchen.

“If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll show you later tonight.” Hermione said, winking as Fred arched his eyebrows. 

“I think we’ve been a corrupting influence on you since Ron and Harry left,” Fred laughed, passing a glass of wine to Hermione and snagging a beer for himself. 

“Yes, because I was so sweet and innocent up until then.” As she took a sip of wine, she could hear George calling out a greeting to Lee. “Why don’t you go finalize your big finale for the evening. I’m going to go mingle. I noticed a few familiar faces that I haven’t talked to in awhile,” she said, kissing Fred’s cheek. “I’ll come find you in a few.”

Fred kissed her head and strode off to join his brother and Lee. Hermione moved into the large sitting room and instantly saw how the home had gotten its name. Ceiling high windows allowed for a breathtaking view of the moonlit, star studded sky, casting beautiful shadows over a vast lake. She’d hardly call the dwelling a cottage though; more like a manor or maybe a villa. In the corner of the room, she saw her old classmate, Seamus Finnigan, fiddling with stereo equipment at the designated DJ table.

“I heard you’re looking for a fellow Muggle music enthusiast,” Hermione said, slipping behind the table and looking over Seamus’ setup.

Seamus looked up from his iPod and his face of concentration lightened to surprise. “Hermione! Lee didn’t say you’d be here!” He dropped the mp3 player and pulled Hermione in for a hug. “Who did you come with? Potter?”

“No, him and Ron are unfortunately still away on their mission,” Hermione answered with a frown.

“Bugger,” Seamus commiserated. “That’s gotta be hard on Gin. I felt so bad for her when I got the letter saying they had to postpone the wedding. How’s she holding up?”

“About as well as she can given everything. You know she’s expecting a baby any day now, right?”

Seamus’ eyes bulged. “No! Blimey, Potter sure has shite timing, doesn’t he?” Hermione laughed as Seamus shook his head. “So, who are you here with then?”

“Fred,” Hermione answered, pointing across the room to where her boyfriend was listening to George and Lee. He caught her pointing and waved.

“You and Fred? Wouldn’t have expected that pairing.” Seamus picked up his iPod and and started scrolling through a playlist. “Then again, I dated Pansy Parkinson for a bit last year, so who am I to talk about odd pairings?”

“You and Pansy?” Hermione cried in disbelief.

“It wasn’t a high point of my life, but yeah. Anyway, what should we start this uneducated hoard off with?” Hermione glanced over her friend’s shoulder and after a moment pointed to a song. “Oooh, Joan Jett. What a woman…” He hit play and the sounds of ‘I Love Rock N’ Roll’ filled the room. “I perfected an energy charm for the battery that should allow it to last well into the morning,” Seamus said, holding up the music player with an accomplished smile.

“And how many of those things did you blow up before you got it right?” Hermione teased.

“Two, maybe three? Only had to regrow my eyebrows once though. Personal best, that is.”

Hermione laughed and bid Seamus farewell to go say hello to a few other classmates she had spotted arriving. Most of the guests were a few years older than her and, while she recognized them, was at a loss to their names. But she chatted for a bit with Cho Chang, who had come with another former Ravenclaw, Roger Davies. A fellow Gryffindor, Alicia Spinnet, was gushing over Angelina’s story of her and George’s elopement. The most surprising guest came in the form of Luna Lovegood, accompanying Dean Thomas.They both insisted that they had just become good friends since their Hogwarts days, but Hermione caught Dean sneaking longing glances at the starry eyed blond.

Making her way back to the kitchen, Hermione swapped out her empty glass for a new glass of wine and went in search of her own date. She finally found Fred sat on an oversized couch, talking to one of the classmates she recognized, but couldn’t label. She sat down on Fred’s other side and got introduced to Alexander Masters. 

Once Alexander had left, Hermione asked, “So, is this going to be like Egypt and I’m going to have to wait all night for you to ask me to dance?”

“Will I have to wait at the back of an endless line of Quidditch players?” Fred joked. 

“I only have my eye on one Quidditch player tonight,” Hermione said, pulling him to his feet. 

“You’ve been checking out Oliver Wood too? Here I thought I was the only one.”

Hermione giggled and gave his arm a playful smack before striding over to Seamus’ DJ table and requesting a song. As she finished off her glass of wine, Cyndi Lauper’s Time After Time started playing and she beckoned Fred to the dance floor. 

“What is this song?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“A classic,” Hermione answered, leaning against his chest and easing into his swaying rhythm. “Takes me back to when I was in my Muggle school and we had all those awkward, pre-teen dances.”

Hermione’s explanation of what Muggle school was like took them into a second dance. She was in the middle of telling him about all the excuses she used in order to get out of her Physical Education classes when George appeared beside them. Hermione narrowed her eyes in suspicion when she saw an eager look in his. 

“Come on you two. Lee’s opened a bottle of Firewhiskey and talked a group of us into playing Never Have I Ever!” George said, jerking his thumb towards the dining room. 

Hermione snorted a laugh. “Aren’t we a little old to play such silly drinking games?”

“Bah, you just don’t want to reveal your dark side,” George provoked.

“More like I don’t envy the hangover that comes with that game.”

“Ah hah! So you admit that there is a dark side! Let’s go!”

“Just remember, anything said at the table can’t be Obliviated,” Hermione warned as she made her way to the dining room, followed closely by a sniggering Fred. She took the empty seat next to Angelina and asked, “They talked you into this childishness too?”

“I’m reluctantly sitting in to make sure my husband doesn’t get drunk and start going into specifics,” Angelina muttered in Hermione’s ear. “What made you join in?”

“If you can’t beat em, join em,” Hermione said with a shrug. 

Within the half hour, she had admitted to having a one night stand, getting intimate in the outdoors, and refusing a date simply because the wizard wasn’t good looking. 

“My turn!” Angelina said, grinning at George. “Never have I ever had sex end in an injury.”

“Evil woman,” George hissed, downing a shot, along with Lee and Dean. 

Hermione groaned and downed her own shot, resulting in a questioning look from Fred. “I fell off the bed once and dislocated my shoulder,” she explained. The two glasses of wine and four shots were doing wonders for her comfort level. “What’d you do?” she asked George.

“Ang attempted to impale me with her elbow and gave me a black eye,” he said, shooting daggers at Angelina. 

“Hermione!” 

She jumped at the sound of her name and spun around to find Seamus behind her. 

“Do you know how to do the Electric Slide?” he asked, eagerly.

“I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that….” Hermione started. 

“Never have I ever snogged Fred,” George called out.

“Cheap shot, Weasley,” Hermione grumbled, downing one last shot of Firewhiskey. She couldn’t help but chuckle when Angelina took one too. George pursed his lips and cocked an eyebrow.

“What? It was during sixth year, at the Yule Ball!” Angelina huffed.

“You never told me that!” George cried.

“You never asked,” Angelina and Fred said simultaneously.

“Come on!” Seamus urged, giving Hermione’s arm a tug. The sudden change from sitting to standing instantly doubled the impact of the alcohol and Hermione gripped the table for support. Attempting to appear half sober, she put all her effort into a purposeful walk and followed Seamus into the sitting room where he had cleared a decent amount of space for the dance. “This enough room?”

“Yep,” Hermione said, giving him a thumbs up. She made her way to the center and tried to quickly remember the steps her best friend from primary school had taught her. Somehow, even in a drunken haze, she could clearly see herself and Amelia dancing in her bedroom, trying to perfect the routine. She glanced down at her feet and saw that at some point she had taken off her shoes and she had no clue when or where. The realization sent her into a fit of giggles. 

“You okay there, love?” Fred asked, taking his place among the other guests that had gathered around her.

“My shoes disappeared,” Hermione whispered, trying to catch her breath. She grinned madly, pointing at her feet.

“I almost forgot how fun drunk Hermione is,” George laughed. 

“Hey! Sober Hermione is fun too!” Hermione pouted. 

“Focus, Granger!” Seamus yelled.

The music started and Hermione mentally counted her beats and then launched into her grapevines. After only two sets, Luna flounced over to Hermione’s side and joined in, picking up the steps surprisingly quick. By the end, all of the girls had joined in and dragged some of the men along with them. As the music faded out, Hermione was laughing and telling Luna how impressed she was with her moves.

“Do you know the Macarena?” Seamus called across the room, after the last note had died. 

“That’s not from the eighties!” Hermione protested.

“That’s not what I asked,” Seamus laughed.

“She knows it! Hit it Finnigan!” Fred called.

The Latin beat started and almost involuntarily, Hermione started swishing her hips and going through the sultry motions. The others caught onto that dance much quicker and it wasn’t long before she was surrounded by wriggling bodies and clapping hands.

The song ended and Hermione instantly latched onto Fred’s arm for support. “I think I need a drink,” she breathed.

“Let’s go find you some coffee. And maybe some food, you lush,” Fred chuckled, leading her to the kitchen. He helped her climb onto a stool, at the bar, and instructed, “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

Hermione nodded. She rested her elbows on the counter and let her head fall into her hands. 

“Quite the performance out there, Granger.”

Slowly looking back up, Hermione was met with cool, grey eyes and blindingly blond hair. “Draco Malfoy. How did you swing an invite to this party?” she asked, looking him up and down. She had to admit he didn’t look half bad, clad all in black, save for a hunter green tie.

“I work with Lee, in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, remember?” Draco said slowly, giving her a confused look. 

Hermione’s brow furrowed as she tried to place his face within the Ministry of Magic. “Oh, yeah. You do, don’t you?”

Draco shook his head and gave her a bit of a wicked smile. “You look good, Granger. I’m liking the tight dress and short hair. You here with anyone?”

Hermione nodded, saying, “Fred Weasley.”

“Weasley,” Draco muttered. “You certainly have a type, don’t you?”

“You’re not looking too shabby yourself, Malfoy. I certainly wouldn’t kick you out of bed these days,” Hermione said, with a smirk and a wink. Draco looked like he was about to come back with another shameless flirt, but was interrupted when an owl swooped in and dropped a letter on Hermione’s head. She unfolded the parchment and read the few words out loud, “Baby, now…” She flipped the parchment over, looking for more, but there was nothing. “Baby, now?” she asked, holding up the parchment to show Draco.

“You and Weasley have an odd way of communicating when you’re both under the same roof.”

“Baby, now,” Hermione muttered. All at once the words cut through her drunken stupor and she cried, “Ginny! Baby! Now! She’s having the baby! Fred!” She pushed herself off the stool and immediately fell face first onto the floor.

“Good Lord, Granger!” Draco quickly grabbed her under the armpits and pulled her back to standing. 

“What’s going on?” Fred yelled, hurrying over as Hermione tried to regain her balance with Draco’s hands firmly placed on her bare shoulders.

“Baby, now!” Hermione insisted. 

Fred grinned, placing a scone and mug of coffee on the counter. “It’s a big house. I’m sure we can find an empty room.”

“Not that!” Hermione smacked his arm and held up the letter. “You’re sister is having the baby! Now!”

“Oh, fuck! All right, let’s go let George know,” Fred said, grabbing Hermione’s hand.

“Good luck with this one, Weasley,” Draco said, releasing his grip on Hermione. 

“Thanks,” Fred laughed, trying to steady his swaying girlfriend. 

“Sod it.” Hermione gave up trying to stand on her own volition and clumsily clamored onto Fred’s back. 

“Careful darlin’. Everyone’s gonna see your knickers.”

“Just go find your brother! Ginny’s already going to be hacked off at me for being drunk. I don’t even want to think about what she’ll do to me if I’m not there at all!” 

Fred weaved through the crowd, shouting for his twin. They found George and Angelina talking with a group of their former classmates, hinting at what they had planned for the midnight fireworks display. Fred let him know about Ginny and promised to keep them informed on her progress, before weaving his way back through the crowd, to the fireplace. 

“Careful how you’re curling those toes, sweetheart,” Fred warned. “We’re dangerously close to having to find an empty room.”

“Oh, shit! My shoes!” Hermione cried. She pulled her wand from between her cleavage and said, “Accio my shoes!”

“Min, no!” Fred shouted as black blurs zoomed towards them, causing several guests to quickly duck. Fred threw up his hands and caught the pumps, as Hermione clung to his shoulders. “I hope Mum has a sobering potion. I don’t think you’re in any fit state to be in a delivery room.”


	15. Chapter 15

New Years Eve

2002

 

The Burrow whirled into view and Fred hastily stepped into the living room, gently kneeling down so Hermione could get off his back. The moment her feet hit the floor, she darted through the kitchen and out the back door. He winced as the muffled sound of retching followed her departure. 

“Is she drunk!?”

Fred spun around and found his sister clutching her stomach, shooting an accusing glare at him. “Don’t look at me like that! I didn’t force the Firewhiskey down her throat!”

“You’re the one that insisted I go out on New Year’s Eve!” Hermione called from the back garden, then promptly vomited some more. Once she had caught her breath, she added, “And you told me this morning that you were sure it wasn’t labor!”

“Well, what do I know? I’ve never been in labor before!” Ginny shouted back, before doubling over and letting out an anguished scream.

“Ooookay!” Fred called, rubbing Ginny’s back. “Where’s mum?”

“Right here, dear,” Molly announced, rushing past him to the meet Hermione at the back door. Hermione appeared, her face tinged green and a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. “Take this, Min,” Molly said, tucking a blue vial of potion into Hermione’s hand.

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered. She downed the potion in one gulp and her face started to immediately restore its normal color. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I got pulled into a stupid drinking game and completely lost my senses. How long have you been having contractions?” Hermione came over and started smoothing Ginny’s hair back from her face. With a wave of her wand, she had Ginny’s hair tied back and plaited.

“I guess all day,” Ginny answered, through gritted teeth. She sucked in a quick breath and let it out slowly. “I thought they were just Braxton Hicks, but then my water broke and now I’m dying!”

“You’re not dying,” Hermione reassured.

“It sure as hell feels like it!” Ginny stood up and looked at Hermione. Her face went from pained to joyful. “Min, your hair and that dress are amazing!”

Hermione laughed and kissed her friend’s sweaty forehead. “Let’s go have a baby, shall we?” Ginny nodded and Hermione turned to Fred. “I’ll floo to the hospital first. Help her get on her way, and then you come after, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Fred agreed. He refrained from laughing as Hermione gave the fireplace a dirty look before stepping into it. After she had disappeared within the green flames, he guided his sister into the hearth and made sure she was steady before taking a step back and watching her whirl away. Once the soot and ash had settled, Fred stepped into the fireplace, called out, “St. Mungos!” and was whisked away on the short trip to the magical hospital. 

When he arrived in the large lobby, he was surprised to find it virtually empty. Aside from Hermione helping Ginny into a wheelchair, there were only two other wizards there. One was sat on a bench, leaning against the wall, fast asleep and lightly snoring. The second was sank down in a well-worn armchair, head buried in the latest Daily Prophet.

Hermione had eased Ginny into a wheel chair. Fred followed them over to the Welcome Witch station. A very bored looking witch looked up as they approached and reluctantly pushed aside her crossword puzzle. She tossed a clipboard of parchments, along with a quill, towards Hermione. Without hesitation, Hermione snatched up the quill and started scribbling out Ginny’s information. Within a minute, she had it completed and handed it back to the receptionist.

“You’re allowed one person in the delivery room,” the receptionist informed them. “Is this the father?” she asked, looking up at Fred.

“What? Oh, no, I’m her brother,” Fred told her.

“I’m her birth partner,” Hermione said, placing a hand on Ginny’s shoulder. 

“I see,” the receptionist said, giving the girls a reproving look. She looked over the papers, muttering “We do get all types here, I suppose. Not sure how much you’ll be able to do in a dress like  _ that _ .”

“Excuse me?” Hermione scowled and turned to the offending witch.

“It’s not like that,” Ginny said, before Hermione had a chance to fly across the desk. “My fiancé is gone at the moment, so my best friend is filling in.”

The receptionist suddenly turned apologetic, saying, “Oh, sorry love. We get a lot of girls coming through here in the same situation. The thought of fatherhood gets to be too much and they do a runner.”

It was Hermione’s turn to hold Ginny back, placing both hands firmly on the laboring redhead’s shoulders before plastering an overly sweet smile on her face and turning to the blabbering witch. Fred took a quick step back. He had never seen Hermione look like that and was a bit worried for the receptionist’s safety, but all the gold in Gringotts wouldn’t put him in the middle of this situation.

“Hi there,” Hermione started and paused, peering over at the witch’s name tag. “Stacey. You seem to be a bit confused as to what your job entails. See, you’re supposed to check us in and get my friend here a Medi-Witch. I’m pretty sure if I had a chat with your supervisor, nowhere in your job description would it call for you being a nosey, judgmental bint. You’ve checked us in. Now, get us a damn Medi-Witch or else you’ll see exactly what I’m able to do in a dress like  _ this _ !” The smile was long gone and Hermione was bent forward, inches away from the receptionist’s face. Her glare was so harsh, Fred almost expected Stacey to start melting under the heat. 

Stacey’s eyes went wide and she slid back in her chair as far as she could. Fred gingerly touched Hermione’s shoulder and his girlfriend slowly retreated from the desk. Stacey touched her wand to a megaphone and said, “Maternity Medi-Witch, check in please!” The message reverberated through the empty halls.

Grinning, Fred bent down and whispered in Hermione’s ear, “You can be bit scary, you know that right? Bloody brilliant, love, but scary.”

“Pretty sure you’re brother said exactly the same thing in our first year,” Hermione replied through gritted teeth. She still had her gaze set on Stacey, who was doing her very best to make herself look busy and avoid all eye contact with any of them.

“Good evening!” a cheerful voice greeted. Fred looked up and saw a middle aged Medi-Witch striding toward them. She wore a crisp white smock over an equally immaculate white trousers. Her salt and pepper hair was clipped short and pinned back with two barretts, adorned with flowers that opened and closed, alternating between pink and blue colors. “My name is Kelly and I’ll be taking care of you—“ She suddenly went silent when she got up close to Ginny and stared for a few seconds, open mouth and unblinking. Finally finding her voice, the Medi-Witch whispered, “Oh my stars! You’re Ginny Weasley!”

From her chair Ginny moaned, but managed a small wave. Kelly quickly took control of the wheelchair, all but shoving Hermione out of the way. Fred heard her let out a low growl and grabbed her hand. “Let’s keep the threats to a minimum tonight and focus on the tasks at hand, shall we?” he chuckled, planting a kiss on the top of her curls. She let out an irritated breath, but squeezed his hand and started following the nurse, who was now talking a mile a minute to Ginny. 

“The Harpies are our favorite team! My thirteen year old adores you!” Kelly gushed, turning the chair sharply to the right. “You inspired her to try out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team this year and she was ecstatic when she was chosen as a Chaser. I half expected her to come home on holiday with her hair charmed red!” Kelly guffawed loudly, covering up the painful moans of Ginny. “Do you think I could get your autograph before my shift ends?”

“Kelly, I will sign every last piece of parchment in this bleeding hospital if you make this pain stop,” Ginny pleaded. 

The overexcited nurse appeared to regain of bit of sense and professionalism, giving Ginny’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I understand darling. Let’s get you checked out and see how far you’ve progressed.” She stopped the wheelchair in front of Delivery Room 12 and her and Hermione stood on either side of Ginny, helping her get to her feet. Turning to Fred, she pointed further down the corridor and instructed, “There’s a waiting room at the end of this hall. You’ll find plenty of tea, coffee, and snacks there.”

“Thank you. Take good care of my little sister.” He smiled and kissed Ginny’s cheek, saying, “Don’t worry, you’ll be just fine, Ginger Snap.”

Ginny’s eyes filled with tears. “You haven’t called me that in years, Freddy Bear,” she sobbed, using her old nickname for him.

“I’m feeling all nostalgic and sappy, for some odd reason.” He gave her chin a chuck and turned to Hermione. “Good luck,” he said, quickly kissing her.

“I’ll keep you updated…Freddy Bear,” she said with a devilish grin.

“Hey! Only my sister can call me that!”

“Whatever you say,” Hermione called back as she helped lead Ginny into the delivery room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Eight centimeters,” Kelly announced, tucking Ginny’s hospital gown back over her legs. “This comes with good and bad news.”

Hermione looked at Ginny. Her best friend was chewing nervously on her bottom lip. Finally, Ginny said, “Good news first.”

“Good news, you’re over halfway there! it won’t be long before we’re welcoming your little one into the world.”

“And the bad news?” Hermione asked.

Kelly’s frowned slightly and said, “Unfortunately it means you’re past the point of any pain potions.”

Ginny closed her eyes and screamed. Hermione wasn’t sure if it was out of frustration, pain, or a combination of both. Kelly patted her leg and walked over to a cabinet. She took out a blanket and blue stockings. 

“You’re quite lucky actually, Miss Weasley,” Kelly said, spreading the blanket over Ginny’s legs. “Most women labor like this for hours before they have a baby. I’m betting your little one arrives before midnight.” Hermione glanced at the clock- 10:48 p.m. Kelly turned to Hermione and handed her the stockings. “Here you go, dear. These may be more comfy than your heels. Was it a nice party?”

Hermione smiled and gratefully accepted the socks. “Thank you. Yes, the party was great, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be at the moment,” she said, looking over at Ginny. 

Kelly nodded and headed for the door, letting them know that she’d inform the Healer of Ginny’s current state. As soon as the door clicked shut, Ginny turned to Hermione with a panicked look.

“I can’t do this Hermione! We need to shut this down.” She threw the blanket off her legs and made a move to get out of the bed. 

“Hold on there,” Hermione said, grabbing Ginny’s hand and gently urging her to lie back down. “It doesn’t work that way, Gin.”

“I want Harry here! I  _ need _ him here! I can’t do this without him!” Ginny cried, rivers of tears cascading over her cheeks. “He’s supposed to be here!”

Hermione sighed and climbed into the bed, wrapping her arm around her friend’s shoulder. “I know,” Hermione whispered, fighting back her own tears. “And you know if he could, he would be by your side in a heartbeat. Trust me, when he gets home, he’ll be getting an earful.” Ginny chuckled and then grabbed her middle, sucking in a quick breath. “Just breath, you’ve got this.” Hermione bit her lip as Ginny took her pain out on Hermione’s left hand.

Once the contraction passed, Hermione stood up and got a washcloth to mop off Ginny’s forehead. Ginny’s hand suddenly rose and covered Hermione’s. A smile graced her tired face and she said, “If I can’t have Harry here, I’m glad you’re the one by my side. Thank you, for everything. And I’m sorry for yelling at you for being drunk. Drunk Hermione is fun.”

“That’s what George said,” Hermione laughed. She hugged Ginny tight and rubbed her back. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, though. I love you like a sister and I meant it when I said there’s no place else I’d rather be than right by your side. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

Ginny started to respond, but was seized with another contraction. She grabbed both Hermione’s hands and squeezed, breathing through her pain. Once it had finally subsided, she slowly released Hermione’s hands and collapsed back against the pillow.

“How about I go get you some ice chips?” Hermione suggested. “I promise I won’t be long.”

Ginny nodded and Hermione tucked the blanket back around her legs. Then she switched out her heels for the blue hospital socks and headed out into the hall. She started walking in the direction that the Medi-Witch had pointed Fred in. When she came to the waiting room, Fred jumped up and ran to her, quickly followed by Molly and Arthur.

“How is she?” Molly asked quickly, wringing her hands together. 

“She’s doing great,” Hermione reassured. She smiled at the Weasley mother. She couldn’t begin to imagine what the worry was like to know your own baby was having a baby. “We went through a brief period of doubt, but pulled it back together. Right now, she’s eight centimeters along. The nurse thinks the baby will be here before midnight, so it won’t be long now.”

“What does eight centimeters along mean?” Fred asked.

Hermione bit back a grin and shook her head. “I’m going to let your mother explain that one,” she said, making Arthur chuckle. 

“Thanks. How are you doing in there?” Fred queried, brushing his fingers down her cheek.

“If I get through it without my hands being crushed, I’ll be amazed,” Hermione said, flexing her fingers. Fred gave her a sympathetic smile and brought her hands to his lips. “It’ll all be worth it in the end.” He nodded and Hermione turned to the ice machine, filling up Ginny’s cup. “I better get back. I promised her I wouldn’t be long.”

“Send her our love,” Molly said, giving Hermione a quick hug.

Hermione nodded and started back towards Ginny’s room. Fred’s voice brought her to a stop and she turned around. 

“Those booties really complete your outfit,” he joked, looking at Hermione’s feet and raising an eyebrow.

“Comfort over style,” Hermione called back. 

An hour later, Hermione was perched on the bed, behind Ginny. She massaged her best friend’s back as the mum-to-be took slow deep breaths. The contractions were coming stronger and closer together, barely giving Ginny a minute’s rest between them. Kelly had been in and out several times, checking in on the progress. 

“Oh Merlin!” Ginny cried, grabbing Hermione’s hand. “It’s coming!”

“I know, Gin. You’re doing great. Keep breathing,” Hermione assured, smoothing a few wisps of hair from Ginny’s face. 

“No, no, no, no! I need to push, right now!”

“Oh, shit!” Hermione scrambled off the bed and ran for the door. She wrenched it open and just started shouting, “Kelly? Kelly!” The nurse came careening around the corner within seconds. “It’s time!”

The nurse tapped her wand against a pendant around her neck and explained, “Notifies the Healer,” after seeing Hermione’s puzzled look. Hermione nodded and ran back to Ginny’s side. “Is there a lot of pressure and burning?” Kelly asked, lifting up Ginny’s gown. Ginny nodded. The nurse bent down for her routine check. “Oh, yes, it certainly is time. This little one has quite the head of hair already. Would you like to have a look Miss Granger?”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. Her and Ginny had never discussed where Hermione’s eyes should be during the actual delivery. She wasn’t sure how comfortable she felt looking at her best friend’s downstairs area…..

“It’s okay, Min. Is it Weasley hair or Potter hair?” Ginny wheezed.

Hermione took a deep breath and then took a quick glimpse under the gown. She turned to Ginny and smiled.

“Potter hair.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Hey, what’s going on?” 

Fred looked up and saw George and Angelina sitting down on the couch across from him. He gave them a surprised smile and asked, “Why aren’t you two at the party? You’re going to miss our big finale.”

“Lee knows what he’s doing,” George said, waving off Fred’s concern. “It just felt wrong not being here. So, how’s she doing?”

“Good, I guess. Hermione came out about an hour or so ago, saying Gin was pretty far along,” Fred started to explain.

“How many centimeters?” Angelina asked.

“Jeez, are all women just born with this knowledge or do you have secret meetings?” Fred asked incredulously. 

“Secret meetings. How many?” she asked again.

“Eight,” Fred answered and Angelina nodded, apparently satisfied with the number. “The nurse had told them she thought the baby would be here by midnight, but I don’t think we’re going to hit that mark.” He looked at his watch for the millionth time that night. It was ten minutes to midnight.

The sound of a door opening and Hermione’s voice yelling for the nurse drew the family’s attention down the corridor. The nurse came around the corner and they caught Hermione say, “It’s time!” before both women disappeared into Ginny’s room.

This news put Molly Weasley on her feet and she began pacing the length of the waiting room. 

“She’s going to be fine Mum,” Fred said, attempting to ease his mother’s nerves a bit. She merely nodded and continued her pacing. Angelina patted George’s leg and went to walk with Molly, talking to her in a soothing voice. Fred couldn’t make out what she was saying, but he saw his mother smile in response to it. He turned to his twin and shook his head. “How did a great girl like that end up with you?”

George scowled and replied, “Maybe I should go ask Hermione the same question?”

“Touché brother. Guess we really shouldn’t question the universe, should we?”

“Let sleeping dogs lie,” George said with a nod.

“Compare me to a dog again, George Weasley, and you’ll be sleeping with them,” Angelina threatened.

“I love you!” George called, giving Angelina a simpering, innocent smile. 

Molly and Angelina continued to wear a path in the tile while the three men sat silently, checking their watches every other minute. As the clock ticked over to midnight, Auld Lang Syne started playing throughout the hospital.

“Happy New Year everyone,” Arthur announced. He stood and went to kiss his wife. 

A sudden scream, followed by unmistakable newborn cries, made them all jump up and look down the corridor once more. Molly’s hands clamped over her mouth and tears spilled out of her eyes as they heard Hermione calling, “It’s a boy! It’s a boy!”

Fred hugged his mum as his dad planted kiss after kiss on her cheek. The news seemed to give everyone a second wind and no one wanted to sit back down. Molly was practically bouncing, her eyes glued on Ginny’s door. 

“Where’s Hermione?” Molly asked after five minutes had passed and no other sounds were coming from the room. “I do hope everything is all right.” She wrung her hands and Fred was sure she was about to start her pacing again. Just then, they heard the door click and Hermione slowly backed herself out of the room. When she turned around, her face was beaming down at a bundle of blue blankets she had cradled in her arms.  As she approached them, she looked up and her grin stretched from ear to ear. 

“Everyone,” she whispered, pulling the blankets down to reveal a sleeping little boy, with a head full of untidy black hair. “I’d like to introduce you to Mr. James Arthur Potter. Born at exactly 12:01 a.m., on January first, two thousand and three.”

Fred looked up his father, who was trying to fight back tears at hearing his name attached to his first grandson. He lost his fight as Hermione gently placed the baby in his arms. “Merlin,” Arthur sighed, brushing his fingers over the tips of James’ hair. “He’s beautiful.” He brushed his hand once more over the baby’s hair before handing the newborn to Molly.

“How is Ginny?” Molly asked, never taking her eyes off James.

“Exhausted,” Hermione answered. “The delivery went just fine and she’s in the process of getting cleaned up. She asked to see you.”

“Well, of course she did.” Molly gave the baby a gentle kiss and handed him to George, then scurried up the hall, to Ginny’s room.

“How are you holding up?” Fred asked, moving behind Hermione and wrapping his arms around her waist. 

She let out a sigh and said, “Not gonna lie, I’ve seen things Fred. Things a person can’t unsee. You may be sleeping in your own bed for a while.”

George let out a quick bark of a laugh, then quickly clamped a hand over his mouth when James startled and Angelina shot him a warning look. Mr. Weasley shook his head and mumbled, “I’m going to pretend I’ve gone temporarily deaf.”

Angelina passed the baby to Fred who got to admire his new nephew for a minute before Hermione insisted that her time was up and she needed to get James back to the room.

“They’ll be moving Ginny to a new room shortly and then she’ll be able to have more visitors, if you guys have the energy to stick around a bit more,” she explained, cradling the newborn close. She turned to Fred and said, “I’m going to stay here for the night. I don’t want her to be all alone on her first night of motherhood.”

“I understand.” He bent down to give her a kiss, but she ducked her head and he got a face full of curls. “I can’t even give you a kiss?!”

“I love you, but I’m going to need at least a day to recover.” Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes, and she clutched the baby closer. “Until you’ve seen what goes on behind those doors, you don’t fully understand everything it takes to bring one of these into the world. I don’t want to experience that again anytime in the immediate future.” She gave his arm a quick pat and rushed up the corridor.

Fred’s face fell as he watched her hastily open the door and scurry inside. “Do babies make all women’s brains wonky?” A sudden slap across the back of his head and Fred wheeled around to find himself on the receiving end of Angelina’s warning glare. “What? It’s a legitimate question! Earlier she could barely keep her hands off me, and now I may as well be some random acquaintance.” Loud laughter drew Fred, George, and Angelina’s attention to Arthur. “Sorry, dad. Probably more than you wanted to know.”

Arthur waved off his son’s apology. “I’ve long accepted the fact that you children are grown and leading your own lives, in your own way. You have no need to apologize for having a natural, healthy relationship. You’re mother on the other hand…” He laughed and moved over to clap a hand firmly on Fred’s shoulder. “As for the baby thing,” he drew in a breath and let it out with a chuckle. “Childbirth is a beautiful and wonderful part of life. I was there to welcome each of you into this world and wouldn’t have missed it for anything. But, it’s also a very unique experience that leaves you looking at things differently. You’ll understand when your own kids come along someday, son. Like Hermione said, give her a bit of time to recover. She won’t banish you from the bed forever.”

“Should I tell her that I’m not even—“ Fred started.

“Nope,” his father said, quickly cutting him off. “You say nothing and just let her regain her comfort level on her own time. Trust me on this one.”


	16. Chapter 16

February 2003

 

During Ginny’s first month of motherhood, Hermione and the other Weasley women rotated shifts, taking turns to make sure the new mum had as much support as possible around her. James was a fairly easy baby but, like all babies, his days and nights were mixed up for those first few weeks, so there were quite a few sleepless nights. 

Fred tried to accompany Hermione on the nights she spent at his sister’s house, but he and George had started work on a few new products that they’d had to put on hold due to the holiday season. Now that their patron traffic had eased up considerably, the brothers were able to spend their late nights doing what they loved most- inventing.

Most days he and Hermione were like passing ships in the night. As Fred was waking, she would just be flooing home from a night of fractured sleep, getting up and down with James, only to shower and floo off again to work. By the time he returned home from the shop Hermione was either asleep and dead to the world, or back at Ginny’s.

One Friday evening, Fred had put a pause on the product testing and got home early, hoping to catch Hermione when she was actually conscious. He was met with a disappointing sight when he walked into the kitchen, at five-thirty, and found Hermione passed out with her head on the table. Quill still in hand, she was slumped over the Wizard Wheezes’ ledger. He didn’t have the foggiest idea of when she’d even had a chance to stop in and get it from the shop.

With a defeated sigh, Fred set a pot of coffee to brew and started prepping ingredients for a quick dinner of Bangers and Mash. He had just put the sausages in the frying pan and was starting to mash the potatoes when Hermione started to stir.

“I got ‘im Gin,” she slurred, not quite fully awake. 

Fred turned the sausages and abandoned the potatoes. “Hermione,” he said softly, gently rubbing her shoulder. “You’re at home, sweetheart.”

“No, I don’t have to go home,” she protested, turning her head to the other side.

Fred pursed his lips and his shoulder rub turned into an insistent shake. “Hermione, wake up, love. You’re going to end up with a crick in your neck.”

Hermione’s head jerked up, her wide amber eyes looking around in panic from behind skewed glasses. Her hair was sticking out at the sides and she had ink smeared across her nose and right cheek. It took about half a minute for her to focus and comprehend where she was. Her nose started to twitch and she asked, “Is something burning?”

“Shit,” Fred cried, running back to the stove and giving the sausages another flip. 

“What time is it?” Hermione asked, closing the ledger and placing her glass atop it.

“Almost six.”

“I need to get going! I told Ginny I’d be there for dinner.”

Before Hermione could jump out of her chair, Fred firmly said, “No,  _ we’re _ having dinner  _ together  _ tonight. Besides, it’s not your night to be there.”

Hermione huffed and said, “Yes it is. Thursday nights—“

“It’s Friday, Hermione,” Fred corrected. He turned back to the potatoes and resumed his mashing. “Fleur is there tonight.” Hermione sat back down, a bewildered look on her face. Fred scooped mash onto two plates, transferred the sizzling sausages from the pan to the plates, and carted them over to the table. He poured out two cups of coffee, setting one unaltered cup in front of Hermione, before adding the usual inordinate amount of milk and sugar to his own. He sat down beside his exhausted girlfriend and attempted to smooth down the sides of her hair. “You’re driving yourself into the ground, you know that right?”

Hermione shook her head, picking up her fork and knife and cutting into a sausage. “I just got confused for a moment. All I need is a little sleep.”

“More like a week’s worth of sleep.” He went to cut up his own sausages, but then dropped his utensils and turned back to Hermione. “Look, Min, I don’t want to tell you what to do—“

“But you’re going to?” Hermione snapped.

Fred bit his lip and fought back a growl. “No,” he said slowly. “I just thought I’d suggest going easy on yourself. I know you want to help Ginny out as much as possible, but remember, my sister is a big girl. She’s quite capable of taking care of herself. At least that’s what she’s been telling us since she could string together coherent sentences.”

“I know that. But it’s not just her now, is it?”

“Please, stop biting my head off here! I’m only trying to help.”

“So am I!” Hermione shouted.

Fred pressed his fingers to his temple, closed his eyes, and did a quick count to ten. Upon opening his eyes, he gently took Hermione’s hands into his and was relieved when she didn’t rip them away. “You, my love, are an amazing woman and you have such a genuinely good heart. I love that, and so much more about you, but look at you! I say this with all the love in my heart, you’re a mess Hermione Granger! You have bags under your eyes, but no idea what day of the week it is. I don’t know what’s going on with your hair at the moment and you’re so tired you’re drooling all over our bookkeeping.”

“I did not drool.”

“The ink stains on your face beg to differ.”

Hermione jumped out of her chair and ran to the hallway mirror. He quietly laughed when he heard her mutter, “Dammit.” She came back to stand in front of Fred. “I am a mess,” she whispered.

Fred smiled and swiped his thumb over an escaped tear, smearing ink further across her cheek. “Yes, but a beautiful mess, if that’s any consolation.” She let out a little whine and buried her face in his chest. “It’s okay,” he soothed, hugging her tight. “I’ve been far from perfect the last few weeks, spending way too many late nights at the shop. It’s why I took the night off tonight, hoping we might have an evening to ourselves for once. Just the two of us, at home, no screaming nephew to interrupt things?” 

“That does sound nice,” Hermione sniffled, pulling away from Fred and climbing back into her seat. “Thank you, by the way, for making dinner,” she said, picking up her fork.

“It’s nothing special. Just Bangers and Mash.”

“It’s wonderful,” she insisted, taking a bite and finally giving him a smile. “My head is so fuzzy. I can’t remember the last time I sat and enjoyed a meal. I think I ate yesterday.”

Fred took a bite of his mash and chewed, carefully thinking over how he wanted to word his next thought. After a minute, he proposed, “If I can get Lee to cover me this weekend at the shop, will you stay in and be a lazy git with me?”

“I’m not sure if I know how to do that.”

“Well, it just so happens you’re dating the master of lazy git-ness and I am more than happy to teach you my ways.”

Hermione gave him a suspicious side-eye, but her lips quirked with the hint of a smile. Finally, she nodded. “If Lee can cover for you, I’ll floo Ginny and make sure she’s good for the weekend.”

Fred grabbed his wand and summoned a quill and some parchment. The sudden bit of magic made the lights flicker briefly and caused their neighbor’s temper to flare. “When are those blasted cockwombles going to fix the bleedin’ wiring in this fucking tin can?!” they could hear Mrs. Llewellyn shouting through the wall.

Fred snorted and gave an appreciative nod. “You don’t get to hear many sixty year old women say cockwomble.” Hermione giggled as Fred started scratching out a quick note to Lee. “Let me go see if Toby is in.” 

Fred dashed back to his bedroom and found his owl slumbering in his cage. Fred’s bedroom had pretty much just become a storage area for his things. Since Ginny had moved out, again, he spent every night in Hermione’s room. Even on nights she spent at Ginny’s, he slept in her bed; partly out of habit, but mainly because her scent gave him comfort and he found it hard to sleep without being enveloped by her, in one way or another. 

“Hey there, buddy,” Fred said. He gave the owl a treat and a few strokes on the head before securing the letter and sending Toby on his way. When he came back, Hermione was just pulling her head out of the floo and shaking soot from her hair.

“Just talked to Gin,” she explained, walking back to the kitchen. She quickly ate the last few bites on her plate and then took it to the sink.

“And?” Fred asked, stuffing the last half of his sausage into his mouth. Hermione grimaced at him and Fred grinned. “ ‘o on, ‘ay it,” he spluttered through his mouthful of food.

“Charming,” Hermione said, sticking out her tongue. “You’re sister kindly informed me that I am not her keeper and that she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself and James.”

Fred swallowed his food and nodded. “I just sent Toby to Lee, so should be hearing back from him shortly. Why don’t you go find something worth watching on the telly while I wash these up quick.” Hermione nodded and took her coffee along with her to the living room. Fred washed up the few dishes that were in the sink, then grabbed two spoons and the carton of chocolate ice cream from the freezer. When he reached the sofa, he found Hermione flicking through channels, with tears streaming down her face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Hermione whispered, hastily wiping her cheeks. “I just need to shut down parts of my brain, but it won’t let me.”

Fred sat down beside her and offered her a spoon. “Worried about Harry and Ron?” he asked, opening the ice cream.

“Yeah,” Hermione admitted, scooping out a bit of ice cream. “It’s coming up on a year. Doesn’t that seem a bit excessive? Shouldn’t they be back by now?”

“Well, yeah I guess it’s a bit extreme of a timeline, but I’m also not an Auror. This could be a situation that regularly crops and those two have just been lucky enough to avoid it until now. Kind of like you and the Azkaban inspections.”  Fred leaned his head back and took a bite of ice cream. “You could always stop in at the DMLE and talk to someone there. I know they won’t be able to tell you anything about Ron and Harry, but maybe they can tell you if their situation is rare or not.”

Hermione shook her head tiredly. “There’s always that chance they’ll tell me that this is not normal and then I’m back to square one.” She let her hands drop into her lap and more tears leak out, leaving blurry ink tracks across her cheeks. “I’m sorry we’ve barely seen each other this last month. I just—“ Fred went to speak, but Hermione held up a hand. “I feel like I have to be prepared for whatever can happen in the future. And should the worst come to pass, Ginny is going to need so much help and—“ She stopped and started sobbing uncontrollably. 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Fred dropped the ice cream onto the coffee table and pulled Hermione into his arms. She didn’t fight his gesture and he ran his hand up in down her back.

“How can you be so sure it’ll be okay?” she cried into his chest.

“Because I know Harry and I know Ron. Look at all the shit Harry went through during his years at school. He literally died, and still somehow lived to tell the tale. There’s no way some amateur, wanna-be dark lords are going to get the best of that man.” Fred grinned when he heard her let out a little laugh. “As for my brother, you know him better than we do probably. You did date the git.”

“A silly little fling. I’ve had popcorn kernels stuck in my teeth longer than that relationship lasted.”

“There’s my girl,” Fred chuckled. He gently nudged her backwards, tilting her chin up so he could look her in the eyes. “My point is, you know Ron is a stubborn prat—“

“Typical Weasley.”

“Oy! Watch it now,” he warned, with a grin. “Ron can handle whatever he gets thrown into. You’ve seen it.” He used his sleeve to wipe away the ink remnants. “Those two know what they’re doing. Unfortunately whatever they’re doing requires a lot of time and patience. I’m sure it won’t be long before they come sauntering into the Burrow, like nothing has changed. I don’t know about you, but I hope I’m there when they do because the look on Harry’s face when he comes face to face with his little clone is going to be priceless.”

“It’s so weird to think that he doesn’t even know he’s a dad.” Hermione grabbed the ice cream and snuggled up against Fred’s chest. “I bet ya five Galleons he hits the floor when he realizes the baby is his.”

“What’s this now? Miss Granger, when did you become a betting woman?” Fred nuzzled her ear as he reached around her for his spoon. He dug out a big dollop of the melting chocolate.

“I have no idea who could have been such a horrible influence on me,” she said sarcastically. She tilted her head ever so slightly, giving him easy access to the sensitive spot just below her ear. 

“I’ll take that bet, by the way,” Fred purred, trailing kisses from her ear to her shoulder. 

“Oh, that’s cold!” she gasped, attempting to squirm away.

Fred locked his arms around her waist and murmured, “I’m sure I can find a way to warm you up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Fred, I’m going to take a quick shower and then I’ll be ready to go,” Hermione called, walking to the bathroom.

“Take your time, love. No rush,” Fred called from the kitchen.

As Hermione turned the shower on and let the water heat up, she heard the muffled sound of the floo. She wasn’t expecting anyone, but assumed that George must have dropped by before he made his way to the Burrow. She’d have to remember to wrap herself up in her towel before making her way back to the bedroom. She scrolled through her iPod library before moving back to the beginning and settling on ABBA. ‘Take A Chance On Me’ filled the air and Hermione gave the little device a satisfied smile.

Stepping into the hot cascade of water, Hermione closed her eyes and sighed as her muscles relaxed. It had been two weeks since her meltdown over Harry and Ron. She took Fred’s advice and started backing off on the days she spent at Ginny’s. Her best friend admitted that she was happy Hermione had, because Ginny had apparently been trying to find a nice way to tell everyone to give her some space. Of course Hermione didn’t tell Ginny the reason she had become a bit obsessive about being around her and James. She was sure that whatever thoughts she was having, Ginny was having the same, multiplied by a hundred. 

In turn, less time at Ginny’s meant more time with Fred. She was able to get home right from work and make dinner. A few nights, she ended up grabbing take-out and hanging out at the shop until late, watching the twins innovate and test some of their new creations. Currently, they were taking turns testing out a new hair dye shampoo. So far, her boyfriend had come home with his hair colored green, purple, and yellow. George had gotten red, blue, black, and white. As Hermione shampooed her own hair, she wondered who they had gotten to test the orange since that particular color wouldn’t have much effect on their own hair. 

Humming along to ‘Waterloo’, Hermione shut off the water and stepped out into the warm steam that had filled the bathroom. She made her way to the sink, grabbed her toothbrush and squeezed out a glob of paste. As she started to brush her teeth, she wiped the condensation from mirror. The face that stared back at her sent her jaw dropping and her toothbrush clattering into the sink. 

Orange. Every single curly hair on her head was colored orange. “What the…” she breathed, hastily holding up chunks of hair, inspecting it from every angle. No sign of her natural chestnut color appeared on any strand. ’S.O.S.” started playing and Hermione had a fleeting thought that her iPod might be a Seer as she screamed, “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

She wrapped her towel tightly around her body and stormed out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen. Fred and George stared back at her, trying to pull off faces of innocence, but she could see the fear in their wide eyes. Good. They were right to be afraid. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the good sense to keep their mouths shut. She heard George whisper, “Well, it works.”

“Really?! I hadn’t noticed!” Hermione shrieked. Holding her towel firmly in place with her left hand, she started smacking every inch of the twins she could reach with her right. “What on God’s green Earth made you think that this is okay? Has all that dye seeped into your own heads and addled your brains?”

“Ow! Settle down Min!” Fred shouted, dodging Hermione’s assault. “It’ll disappear in twenty-four hours.”

“You don’t get to tell me to settle down, Fred Gideon Weasley!” She gave them each one more smack before wheeling around and stalking to her bedroom. 

“I haven’t seen her that worked up since we gave Fainting Fancies to first-years,” George commented, and Hermione let out a frustrated yell before slamming and locking her bedroom door. 

She continued to fume as she wrenched a jumper from the closet and a pair of jeans. It wasn’t until she had everything on that she realized that she had forgotten underpants and started furiously kicking her jeans back off. When she finally had a complete outfit on, she studied her reflection with her lips pressed into a firm line. After drying, the color had lightened up and she saw that she was correct in thinking that the color would have had no effect on any of the Weasleys’ hair. With a defeated sigh, she pinned the sides back with a few bobby pins.

When she finally opened the bedroom door, Fred was standing there with a guilty look on his face. “No,” she said, before he could even speak a word, and swiftly moved passed him to the floo.

As she gathered up her purse and wand, George attempted an apology. “Hermione, we’re really sorry. Can—“

“Nope, not talking to you right now, either,” Hermione said, refusing to meet his gaze. 

The boys finally took the hint and flooed to the Burrow ahead of her. Hermione took a moment, in the quiet of the flat, to bring her temper under control. She wasn’t planning on letting the scheming brothers back into her good graces anytime in the immediate future, but she didn’t want to go to Molly and Arthur’s and ruin Sunday dinner with a bad temper. 

When she felt her heart rate slow and her blood pressure lower, she grabbed her purse and jacket, then flooed to the Burrow. When she stepped out of the fireplace, Fred and George were in the sitting room, talking to Bill and Percy.

“Hey there, Min,” Bill greeted, shooting her a puzzled look. “What happened to your hair?”

“I’ll give you three guess, but I’m sure you’ll only need one,” Hermione grumbled. She swept off to the kitchen, with the twins at her heels. 

“Come on, Min,” Fred started to plead. “You know we were only having a laugh.”

Hermione said nothing and started pulling plates from the cupboard. Molly had her back turned, fiddling with various dishes she had cooking on the stove. Victoire came running in and latched onto Hermione’s leg. “Auntie Min! I help! I wanna help!” the little girl begged. Hermione smiled down at the toddler, happy that at least one person was unfazed by her sudden change in appearance. Victoire grinned back, pulling on Hermione’s jeans.

“You can’t ignore us forever, Hermione,” George commented. Bill and Percy had quietly moved into the kitchen, anxiously glancing between Hermione and the twins. 

“Okay, would you like to put a fork and spoon at everyone’s plate?” Hermione asked Victoire, brushing past George to the utensil drawer. Victoire eagerly nodded and Hermione gathered the cutlery into the basket. She followed Victoire to the tables and started setting out plates, while showing Victoire what side of the plates the utensils went on. Once Victoire moved onto the next plate, Hermione would quickly place a knife beside the fork.

“I think everything is just about ready,” Molly announced, turning around and wiping her hands on her apron. “Oh, where’d Hermione go? I thought I heard her just a moment ago.”

Hermione growled, narrowing her eyes at Fred, who took a startled step backwards, bumping into Bill. “I’m right here, Molly,” Hermione answered.

Molly found Hermione’s face in the group and she did a double take. “Oh dear, I thought you were one of my own for a moment there. Which one of my darling sons did this to you?”

“Both.”

Molly Weasley shook her head, giving Fred and George a disappointed stare. “I’d say something, but something tells me she’s punishing you more than I ever could.” She started summoning plates of food to the center of the scrubbed oak table. 

From the sitting room, the floo sounded. Ginny pushed her way into the kitchen, cradling James in her arms and a diaper bag slung over her shoulder. Another whoosh of the floo, and Angelina appeared in the doorway. 

“What is everyone standing around for?” Ginny asked, brushing wisps of hair from her face. She finally spotted Hermione and, like her mother, did a double take. “They didn’t…” she gasped, reaching up and fingering a ringlet that had already escaped a bobby pin.

“Do we really expect anything less?” Hermione sighed, scooping James out of Ginny’s arms. “How is my favorite, handsome little man?” she cooed, tickling the baby’s belly and smiling as his little hand grabbed her finger.

“Hey, I thought I was—“ Fred started, before Bill cut him off with a slap on the back, saying, “Not today, Freddy. Not today.”

Sunday dinner was uneventful. Fred sat across from Hermione and kept trying to catch her eye, but she resolutely avoided his stares. They all took turns passing James around so that Ginny could actually finish a meal without interruption. The little guy’s days were finally starting to normalize and he was staying awake for longer stretches of time. By the time he got back around to Hermione, they had just finished dessert. 

Victoire bounded up to Hermione and asked, “Will you come outside and pway with me and Auntie Angie?”

“Of course I will.” Hermione transferred James into Fleur’s waiting arms. Fleur’s tiny frame was just starting to flaunt a bump and she was engulfed with baby fever. Hermione summoned her jacket and followed Victoire and Angelina out the kitchen door, to the back garden. 

The excited little blonde ran straight for the chicken pen, causing the birds to scatter in a flurry of feathers and agitated clucking. Victoire ran the perimeter of the pen, sending the chickens hurrying from one to side to the other, and then back again.

“Sorry my husband’s an insensitive arse,” Angelina said, running her fingers through Hermione’s hair.

Hermione’s lips twitched and she let out a little laugh. “I often wonder how Molly got through seventeen years with those two and managed to keep her patience and sanity. The woman is a saint, I tell ya.”

“How long are you going to make them suffer the silent treatment?”

“Another hour should drive the point home.”

Angelina chuckled and called Victoire over, giving the chickens a chance to calm down. They suggested playing hide and seek, and Victoire enthusiastically agreed. She immediately covered her eyes and started counting to ten. She added a few of her own creative numbers, but was soon calling out, “Ready or not, here I come!” They played until Victoire became more interested in finding gnomes than Hermione and Angelina. Hermione coaxed her away from the gnome holes and over to the the swing Arthur had hung from a large Elm tree. 

Victoire insisted that they all take turns on the swing. While Hermione took her turn and Victoire pushed her, Fred quietly made his way from the house to the yard. His hands were shoved into his trouser pockets and his face wore a very subdued look.

“Hey, Vicky. Mummy said it’s almost time to leave. She wants you to go in so you can say goodbye to everyone,” Fred said, approaching the swing. 

“Aww!” Victoire whined, stamping a foot.

“Can I get the first goodbye?” Hermione asked, holding out her arms. Victoire rushed into them and Hermione gave her a gentle squeeze. “We’ll play again soon, okay?”

Victoire nodded and started to follow Angelina into the house. Hermione stayed seated on the swing, skimming the toe of her trainer across the worn patch of earth underneath. She waited for Fred to say something, but he just stood a few feet away from her, head down and shoulders slumped. 

Hermione sighed and finally said, “You can be a real arse sometimes, you know?”

Fred nodded, running a hand through his hair and finally looking up at her. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good.” Hermione kicked at the ground, making the swing sway to and fro. “I love you like crazy, you know?”

He grinned and took a few steps closer. “I love you like crazy, too.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m really sorry, Hermione. You’re always the one that appreciates and acknowledges the time and cleverness that goes into our stuff the most. We assumed you’d have a laugh with us over this. I don’t think we’ve ever misjudged a reaction quite like we did today.”

“You know I love everything you guys create.” Fred cocked an challenging eyebrow and Hermione backpedalled. “Okay,  _ almost _ everything you create. But I’m your girlfriend, not a guinea pig. If you want me to help test a product, all you have to do is ask. There’s a very good chance I’m going to say no, but at least you won’t be in danger of hexing.”

“You were going to hex me?”

“I can’t say a few didn’t fly through my mind in the heat of the moment.”

“Well, thank you for not acting on them.” Fred moved so that he was standing in front of Hermione. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Hermione gave him a sly smile and nodded. “I get to name this product.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of—“

“I know exactly what you were thinking,” Hermione interrupted, giving his shoes a soft kick. “But I don’t want that.” Hermione bit her lip and added, “Not right now, anyway. No, I want the naming rights. Go confer with your business partner. I’ll wait.”

Fred gave her an appraising look, then turned and walked back into the house. She smirked and kicked off, making the swing go higher. She was just letting her mind wander to the painted picture on James’ cot when Fred returned, with George in tow. Identical looks of skepticism and intrigue were settled on their faces.  Hermione dragged her soles across the dirt path and skidded to a stop, but stayed seated and let the boys come to her. 

“Fred’s relayed your demands,” George started, placing his hands on his hips. “What if we refuse to acquiesce?”

“Somebody’s put on their legal trousers,” Hermione laughed. “Let’s just say, you’ve only had a small dose my silent treatment. Your little brother would be able to attest that I can draw it out for quite some time.” She smiled, remembering Ron’s relationship with Lavender and how long she had silently protested that.

The brothers exchanged a look and Fred shrugged his shoulders. George sighed and let his hands drop to his side. “What name did you have in mind?” he asked defeatedly. 

Hermione grinned triumphantly. “Min’s Maddening Mirage.”

For a moment they said nothing, just stared at her. Then George’s lips quirked upwards and Fred started to chuckle softly. Before long, both were heartily laughing and nodding.

“I think it’s quite a fitting moniker,” Fred said. He held out his hand and Hermione took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet and in for a hug. “I’m sorry we made you a Weasley for a day.”

“I think the color is actually growing on me.” Hermione said and Fred gave her disbelieving look. “I’ve at least stopped flinching every time I catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye.”

“So, we’re forgive then?” George asked tentatively. 

“Yes, you’re forgiven,” Hermione conceded. She reached over and gave his shoulder a playful punch. “Just ask me before you use me as a test dummy next time.”

“It’s a mistake we surely won’t be repeating,” Fred assured, kissing her cheek.


	17. Chapter 17

April 2003

 

After work, Hermione apparated to the shop and was surprised to find it quiet and empty. No redheads streaking through the aisles or standing behind the register. She was about to call out for the twins, but then George’s head poked out from behind the curtain. 

“Oh, just you,” was his greeting, followed by a cheeky smile. 

“Maybe ‘just me’ should take these pizzas back to Pietro’s?” Hermione suggested, making a move back to the door.

“No need for that, Hermione, one of my favorite witches in the whole wide world!” George cried, rushing into the shop and holding out his hands. “Has anyone told you yet today that you look absolutely gorgeous?”

“Flattery will get you far, just ask your brother,” Hermione said with a wink, throwing back his cheeky grin and handing over the two pizzas.

“I think we’ll just leave it at that. Come on back. We were just working on a new idea. What time is it?”

Hermione glanced at her watch and answered, “Quarter ‘til six. I though the shop would be busier than this on a Friday night?”

“Eh, hit and miss right now. Students aren’t out for Easter hols until next week. Things will definitely pick up then. Mind locking up for me?” George asked, nodding his head towards the front of the shop. Hermione waved and flicked her wand so that the CLOSED sign flipped and the door locked.  George began to make his way back to the stockroom and Hermione scurried ahead to pull back the curtains for him. “Thanks.”

Hermione ducked behind the curtain and stopped when she heard music coming from their workroom. It wasn’t from a wizarding band, playing through the wireless. It was the Muggle band, Queen. “Another One Bites the Dust?” Hermione questioned. She opened the workroom door and felt instantly seasick. The room was lined with mirrors of all shapes and sizes. It was like she had stepped into a funhouse room. 

“Hello, darling!” Fred said, jumping off his stool and giving her a quick kiss. 

“Hi. What on earth are you guys coming up with now?”

“Appraising mirrors,” Fred answered, throwing his arms wide, gesturing at their mirrors. “We closed the shop around lunch time to go and browse a bunch of antique and secondhand shops. Between customers, we cleaned and polished them up and voila!”

“What exactly does an appraising mirror do?” Hermione queried, looking around the room. “And is that my iPod?”

“Yes,” Fred said, reaching over and hitting the pause button. “You and Finnigan inspired us on New Year’s Eve with your Muggle music. We’re working on enchanting these mirrors with some fun Muggle songs that will hopefully play an appropriate selection, based on a person’s appearance when they stand in front of it.”

“Will it turn people’s hair a different color?”

George sniggered and shook his head. “No, they just play music. We figure wizards like Dad will get a kick out of the novelty of Muggle music. We’re hitting a few stumbling blocks though, on duplicating the songs and getting an enchantment to stick to the mirrors.”

Hermione leaned against Fred, chewing on her inner cheek as she had a think. His arm snaked around her, pulling her close and she relaxed into his side.   
“Maybe a Protean Charm paired with Sonorus could do the trick?” Hermione suggested. She laced her fingers with Fred’s, that were on her hip. “If you’re still stuck after this weekend, let me know and I’ll see if I can help. I have to get going though. Don’t want to keep your sister waiting.”

“The bed’s going to be so lonely tonight,” Fred bemoaned, gently tugging Hermione around so she was facing him. 

She smiled up at his exaggerated pout as George made gagging noises behind them. “Shut it you,” Hermione scolded, glancing around Fred to his twin. “I distinctly remember someone staying with us a few weeks ago when his wife was sent off on a business trip.”

“Yeah...well…” George stuck his tongue out at them, then busied himself with opening up a pizza box.

Hermione smirked and turned her attention back to Fred. “It’s only for one night. Gin’s a bit beside herself at the moment and I don’t want her to be alone tonight.”

“You don’t want her to be alone any night,” Fred corrected, running his fingers through her hair. 

“Well, no, of course not, but--”

“I know,” Fred said quickly, placing a finger on her lips. “And you’re right, she shouldn’t be alone tonight.” Hermione smiled and gently snagged his fingertip between her teeth. He pulled it away and replaced it with his lips. She momentarily melted as his tongue tangoed with hers. After a few blissful moments, he attempted to break away, but Hermione threaded her fingers through his hair and held him in place. He chuckled against her mouth and made her smile, finally breaking the kiss. “You want to nip home quick?” he whispered against her lips.

“Yes,” she breathed, “but I will have to rain check you. I need to get going.” With a heavy sigh, she let her head thud against his chest and assured, “Tomorrow night, I’m all yours.” 

Fred propped his chin atop her head and let out a little groan. “Give Gin our love and a big hug from us.” He gave her one last, tight squeeze and whispered, “Love you,” in her ear, before brushing a kiss just under her lobe.

“You’re a wicked man,” she laughed, and he nodded in agreement. With one last kiss and a, “Love you, too”, Hermione headed for the floo and set off for Ginny’s.

It was the one year anniversary of Harry and Ron’s leaving, and from the tone of Molly’s owl that morning, Ginny was not handling the day well. She and James had spent it with her mother in an attempt to take her mind off things, and Molly wrote that for the most part it went well. There were many random moments, though, when Ginny would just break down, weeping until she had given herself hiccoughs and a headache.

Hermione’s heart broke for her friend. She, too, had been feeling the boys’ absence pretty profoundly the last few days, so during her lunch break Hermione sent an owl to Ginny insisting they were in need of a girls’ night. As she stepped out of the fireplace at Ginny’s, two bottles of wine clinked against a few of her photo albums and tissue boxes that she had brought for a proper evening of reminiscing.

When she stepped into the living room, she saw Ginny had already gotten a head start on the evening. She was sitting in Harry’s big leather chair, balancing a gurgling James and a thick photo album on her lap.

“That’s Uncle Ron at the Yule Ball,” Ginny was saying, as James’ little fists flailed against the pages. “I will be forever grateful to your Auntie Min for taking this picture.”

“He was not happy that I did,” Hermione laughed. “Not that it mattered. He wasn’t happy about a lot of things I did that night.” Hermione set her bag down and walked behind the chair to peek over GInny’s shoulder. “Aww, look at you and Neville! Wow, it feels like a lifetime ago that we were that young.”

“I was thinking of sending this picture, of Fred and Angelina, to George,” Ginny said, flipping back a page and pointing to a photo of the two dancing.

“You’re such a windup merchant,” Hermione scolded, with a giggle, as she watched sixth-year Fred spin Angelina around so many times she got dizzy, stumbled, and swatted his shoulder. She remembered that year so well. It was the start of her crush on Fred and she had fallen pretty hard into it. There were many lingering gazes at him, from across the common room, and several times she swore he had caught her staring before she had a chance to look away quickly. Attempting to get her mind off him had been one of the main reasons she spent so much time in the library that year. Of course, that had ended up leading to a different distraction…

“Whatcha thinkin about, Min?” Ginny asked, interrupting Hermione’s thoughts. 

“Just remembering various parts about that year,” she answered, rubbing Ginny’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Miserable,” Ginny sighed. She moved James’ hand and closed the photo album. “One year, Min. A whole freaking year and we haven’t heard one word from or about them! What if something--”

“Nothing has happened,” Hermione reassured, both Ginny and herself. James started fussing on Ginny’s lap and Hermione leaned down and scooped him up. He instantly latched onto her necklace and started pulling. “You know if anything had gone wrong, you would have been notified.” She gently pried James’ chubby fingers from the chain and replaced it with a rattle, which he started shaking and smacking against Hermione’s head. “Oooh, what am I going to do with you?” Hermione cooed, nuzzling James’ cheek and making him giggle. 

“It’s just been so hard without him,” Ginny sniffled, reaching up and stroking James’ foot. “You know what horrible, stupid thought I’ve had running through my head that I just can’t seem to shake?” Hermione shook her head and Ginny continued, “ I know it’s completely irrational, but what if Harry comes home and is mad about the baby?” She looked up at Hermione, tears streaming down her freckled cheeks. 

“Oh, Gin.” Hermione knelt down in front of her friend and placed a hand on her knee. “You know that would never happen in a million years!”

“I know. Well, at least I keep telling myself I know,” Ginny choked, clutching Hermione’s hand. “But you know how sometimes you have a crazy thought and you try to shake it off? But that little dark corner of your mind takes over and the crazy idea grows and grows until eventually it’s taken complete control?”

“Yeah, I’ve been there,” Hermione sighed. She was about to say more but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Who would that be?” Ginny asked, hastily wiping her eyes and spinning around in the chair.

“That would be the obscene amount of Thai food I ordered before I came over.” Hermione handed James back to Ginny, receiving one more rattled smack in the process, and hurried to the door. 

Hermione carted the food to the kitchen and started laying everything out on the counter. “You know Harry is going to be beyond overjoyed when he sees James,” she reassured, opening up a carton of Pad Thai and scooping it onto a plate. “A bit shocked, but definitely happy.”

Ginny secured James in his baby swing, waved her wand, and the swing started swaying back and forth. James squealed and grabbed a handful of red hair before Ginny could move away. She smiled as she gently wrenched her hair from his grasp. “The logical part of me knows that. I’ve just had a bit of trouble making my irrational side shut up today.”

Hermione nodded sympathetically and handed Ginny a plate full of food. “It’s understandable. I still can’t believe they’ve been gone for an entire year. I was so sure they would be back by now.” She took a bite of food and chewed, letting herself get lost in thought. 

“How have you been holding up?” Ginny asked, breaking Hermione’s silence. 

“I’ve been fine,” Hermione said simply. She summoned a jug of pumpkin juice from the icebox.

“I know what your ‘fine’ is codeword for, Granger. You don’t have to try and bottle it up for me” Ginny insisted.

Hermione faked a smile and shook her head. “I’m honestly fine Ginny. You already have enough to worry about. I don’t want you to feel you have to add me to your list.”

“But you’re already on my list!”

“Well, then take me off because I’m fine.” Hermione stood up quickly and walked over to the counter to get napkins. She attempted to subtly blow her nose and wipe the tears from her eyes. 

“Hermione,” Ginny said softly, and Hermione felt her hand on her back. She turned around and attempted another smile, but it fell flat. “Hermione, talk to me, please.”

“Ginny, honestly, it’s nothing. You already have so much on your plate, I don’t want to add my trivial thoughts to your worries.” Hermione gave her friend’s shoulder a rub and took the stack of napkins over to the table.”

“I didn’t want to do this, but you’ve forced my hand,” Ginny said, following Hermione back to the table.

“Forced your hand on what?”

“To alert you to one of your flaws.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “I’m well away of my flaws, Gin,” before taking another bite of her dinner. 

“You don’t have many, but I don’t even think you realize you do this.” Hermione looked up expectantly, and Ginny continued, “You’re always the one taking care of everybody. I mean, just look at everything you’ve done for me? You’re the first to offer help when Fred and George need it at the shop. Even when Fred was acting like a jerk and ignoring you, you still made him dinner every night!”

“Because I love you all! I don’t see how this is a flaw?”

“Because you don’t let any of us take care of you when you need it. I can see that Harry and Ron being gone is tearing you up. It’s okay to vent about it once and awhile.”

Hermione let out a sigh and said, “It’s just they’re not….you know...it’s your fiance and your brother that have been gone. I just feel like…”

“Like you’re not entitled to miss them as much as the rest of us?” Ginny finished.

“Yeah, I guess so, in a way.”

“Now who’s letting theirself get carried away with crackpot ideas?” Hermione frowned and let a few tears leak down her cheeks. Ginny took her hand and said, “They’re your best friends and there hasn’t ever been a time when they weren’t there for you, or vice versa. Of course their absence is going to hurt you, and you have every right to miss their arses like crazy.”

“You know what I’ve really been missing lately?” Hermione whispered.

“Tell me,” Ginny urged with a grin. 

“Early Sunday mornings, back at our flat. You would always sleep in, usually because you’d had a match the night before. But Harry and I were always up quite early. I miss seeing that mop of black hair stumbling into the kitchen, fumbling around for coffee, and negotiating with me for sections of the paper.” Hermione finally cracked a gentle smile. “Not that I’m complaining about my current roommate.”

Ginny giggled and replied “I’d never accuse you of such a thing.”

“And I don’t know why, but I miss how Ron would always intentionally wind me up. Arguing just for the sake of arguing. Just as I was about to lose my patience, the jerk would start chuckling until he was howling with laughter, leaving me red in the face and wanting to knock him out.”

“I never understood why you let him pull you into such nonsense? You know half the stuff he fought you on, he couldn’t have given two knuts about.”

Hermione shook her head and admitted, “One of my few other flaws bubbling to the surface, I guess.” She pushed her plate away and looked over at the baby swing. James had fallen fast asleep. “You know, I knew he would look a lot like Harry. I never imagined they would be virtually identical.”

“If it wasn’t for the eyes, I don’t think people would believe he was mine.”

Hermione laughed and turned back to her friend. “What do you miss the most?”

Ginny continued to stare at James, her eyes red and glistening. Finally she answered, “I just miss them.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Fred rolled from one side to the other. He tucked his legs up to his chest and pulled the blankets over his head. Next moment, though, he had kicked them all off, to the foot of the bed, and was sprawled flat on his back. He picked up Hermione’s pillow and buried his face in it, willing his brain to calm down and turn off. It was no use.

“This is ridiculous,” Fred muttered, tossing the pillow back to Hermione’s side of the bed. He laid in bed for another minute before giving up and moving to the living room.

This wasn’t the first night he had spent without her. There were quite a few nights, right after James was born, that he’d had to sleep in an empty bed. Now, suddenly it seemed, he couldn’t fall asleep without Hermione by his side. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t given it a valiant attempt. He’d had a glass of warm milk, read until his eyes felt like they would fall out, and cast spells around the room to block out all the outside light and noise. Hell, he’d even resorted to his tried and true, self relaxation method; something he hadn’t had to use since he had started dating Hermione. At 2 a.m., Fred was officially out of ideas.

He slumped onto the couch and turned on the television. That lasted about five minutes before the brightness became too intense and he had to turn it off. There was only one thing left to do.

Fred summoned a t-shirt from his bedroom, slipped into his trainers, and flooed to his sister’s house. As expected, the house was quiet and dark. Lighting the tip of his wand, he tiptoed his way through the sitting room, up the stairs, and down the hall to the guest room Hermione usually occupied when she stayed over. He was more than a bit disappointed to discover that that bed was also empty.

Slowly making his way down the hall to the master bedroom, he eased the door open and couldn’t help by smile. Hermione and Ginny were curled up together, in the middle of the bed, their foreheads just barely touching. It wasn’t often Fred was jealous of his sister, but he couldn’t help but feel a small pang in that moment. He wanted to be the one sound asleep, next to Hermione. 

Deciding that slipping into a bed with his girlfriend and his sister leaned a bit too far to the right on the creepy scale, Fred closed the door and started back for the guest room. As he passed the nursery, he caught the beginning sounds of a fussy baby. Detouring left into James’ room, Fred lit the lamps with a soft glow and went to peek into the crib. The little boy was wide awake and a gummy grin spread across his face when he caught sight of Fred.

“Hey there, little Potter. What are you doing up at this time?” He leaned down, letting James wrap his five chubby fingers around his own forefinger. As he leaned closer, Fred wrinkled his nose and let out a gag. “Ugh, nevermind. I know exactly why you’re up. Come ‘ere, kidder. Uncle Freddy’ll clean ya up and we’ll let your mummy sleep.”

Fred lifted the baby from his cot and held him at arm’s length as he carried him to the changing table. James thought this was hilarious and let out a squeaky laugh. 

“I’m glad at least one of us is amused by this,” Fred muttered, unsnapping the tiny sleeper so he could get to the nappy. Taking a deep breath, and holding it, he hastily proceeded to remove the soiled nappy, wipe James down, and chuck the small disaster into the dirty nappy pail. Finally letting his breath out, Fred lifted James up victoriously. “There, that wasn’t so horrible. Bet I set a record for quickest nappy change. How about we celebrate over a couple of drinks.”

After a few quick minutes in the kitchen, Fred was back in the nursery with a bottle for James and a glass of pumpkin juice for himself. He settled into the rocking chair and let out a sigh.

“So, what do you think about this outside world so far?” Fred asked. James let out a gurgle and milk dribbled down his chin. “Yeah, that’s a fair point.” He ran his hand over James’ mass of black hair. “If you haven’t noticed yet, you were born into a pretty crazy family. Your mum might be the most sane of us all. You’re dad’s pretty cool, but he’s definitely a few cockroaches short of a cluster. It’s really the reason he fits into the Weasley family so well.” 

Laying his head back, Fred continued prattling on as James made his way through the bottle. “You’re surrounded by some amazing women though, kid. Your mum and Auntie Min are two of the strongest girls I’ve ever known. And your Grandma Molly...well let’s just say she raised me and George, and that in itself deserves an Order of Merlin, First Class. I’m sorry to say though, between the three of them, you won’t be getting away with much. Georgie and I will help ya as much as we can, but even we don’t get away with much these days.” 

Fred glanced down and found James fast asleep, the bottle half hanging out of his mouth. Smiling, he set the bottle aside and threw a blanket over his lap. He adjusted the baby so that James was lying on his chest and the little guy let out a contented little hum.

“I think you have the right idea mate,” Fred said, laying his head back once more and finally drifting off to sleep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sunlight broke through the curtains, causing Ginny to groan and pull the blankets over her head. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and tried to get back to sleep, but it was no use. Her mind was awake and and gave no sign of turning back off anytime soon. With another groan and a stretch, Ginny rolled over and tried to get her eyes to focus on the bedside clock-- Nine-Thirty. It had been a while since she slept in that late. She smiled sadly, before suddenly realizing the reason she hadn’t had a lie-in in forever. 

“James!” she cried, bolting upright and struggling to untangle the sheets from her legs. Beside her, Hermione gave a sleepy snort and woke up.

“Wha’s wrong?” Hermione yawned. 

“It’s nine-thirty and James hasn’t made a peep!” Ginny explained, grabbing her robe as she ran down the hall to the nursery. The door was wide open and James’ crib was empty. “He’s gone!” she cried, dashing back to the door. Hermione had caught up with her though and stopped her in the doorway. “Move!”

“Gin, take a moment and assess the environment,” Hermione said slowly.

“What are you talking about? I don’t have time for this, Hermione.” Ginny gave her friend a push, but Hermione wouldn’t budge.

“I can’t be the only one that smells bacon.”

Ginny took a step back and took a moment to smell the air. Hermione was right; someone was cooking bacon. “Who broke into my house to cook breakfast?”

Hermione smiled and motioned for Ginny to finally leave the nursery. “I have a pretty good hunch.”

Wrapping her robe around her, Ginny ran down the stairs as fast as she could go without falling down them. When she reached the kitchen, she found Fred at the table, just finishing off a plate of food, with James in the high chair beside him. At Ginny’s entrance, Fred looked back and waved.

“Morning, ladies,” he greeted, standing up and taking his plate to the sink. “Hungry?”

“Fred Weasley! You scared the hell out of me!” Ginny cried, running to James and picking him up. “Do you know all the horrible thoughts that ran through my mind when I saw an empty crib?”

“Sorry, sis. Didn’t mean to scare you. Here, trade me,” Fred said, offering Ginny a plate full of bacon, eggs, and toast. Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, but he just grinned and thrust the plate towards her. She relented and took the plate, letting her brother take James. “I just thought you’d like a bit of a lie-in, so the little guy and I got started on breakfast. The kid knows his way around a griddle.”

“Please tell me you didn’t hold my baby over the hot stove,” Ginny said, giving Fred a warning look.

“Nah, he just coached from the sidelines.”

Ginny gave her brother one last glare before digging into her eggs. Hermione giggled as she walked over to gave Fred a kiss, and Ginny pretended to gag. 

“What are you doing here so early?” Hermione asked, tickling James under his chin. The baby gurgled a laugh, coating Hermione’s hand in drool. “Ick. You drool on Uncle Freddy, not Auntie Min,” she laughed, wiping her hand on Fred’s shirt.

“Thanks, love,” Fred muttered. He shifted James to his other hip and wrapped Hermione in a hug. “I’ve actually been here since about two. The bed was lonelier than I had anticipated and I couldn’t sleep. I came over here, hoping to sneak into bed with you, only to find that you had gone and snuck into another Weasley’s bed.”

“Aww, I’m sorry. We stayed up talking so late that by the time I was ready for bed, I didn’t have to the energy to move to the guest room.”

“It’s okay. James and I ended up having a good heart to heart talk over bottles and a diaper change.” He kissed the top of Hermione’s head and gave her a nudge, saying, “Go eat something.”

Ginny smiled as Fred sat down beside her, bouncing James on his knee. While her and Hermione ate, Fred told them about his and George’s minor successes with their Appraising Mirrors. “So, in the end, we got an enchantment to stick, but unfortunately it only plays one song and won’t switch to any of the others we tried.”

“Which song?” Ginny asked,

“A song called I’m Too Sexy. It was funny at first, but after the millionth time it got annoying.”

Hermione nodded and said, “Right Said Fred.”

Fred looked at her confusedly. “I never said that.”

“No, I meant it’s the name….nevermind.” Hermione laughed and took her plate to the sink. “I’m going to go change.” She quickly kissed Fred’s cheek and headed for the stairs.

Ginny listened to her footsteps disappear, then turned to her brother. “Things seem to be going well between you two.”

“Yeah, really well,” Fred answered. James started fussing and Fred lifted him up to his chest and started rubbing his back. “It’s the best relationship I’ve ever been in. Every now and then I have this fear that it’s was all just been some wonderful dream, and I’m going to wake up in the shop flat and she’ll be seeing some other bloke. Then I roll over, get assaulted by a mass of curls, and breathe a sigh of relief.”

Ginny laughed and sent her plate zooming into the sink. “Well, I can tell you that I’ve 

never seen her this happy and content with anyone else she’s dated. She loves you. And, since she has no older brothers to threaten you, like the  _ six _ you did with Harry, I’ll stand in. You hurt her and I’ll hex the shit out of you.”

“Hey now! Tender ears,” Fred scolded, covering a now sleeping James’ head. 

“Give me my child,” Ginny said in exasperation. She gently lifted James up and playfully swatted Fred’s head. 

As she carried the little boy to his bassinet, in the sitting room, Fred followed at her heels. “You know, most people would take your words as an empty threat.”

“Yes, but I would hope you’re smarter than ‘most people’.”

“Aye, considering I’ve seen those ‘empty threats’ in actions,” he answered, grinning widely. He wrapped her in a tight hug and said, “I’m glad she has such an amazing friend looking out for her. I promise, I won’t give you an excuse to hex me.”

“Like I need an excuse.”

“Do I even want to know?” Hermione asked, reappearing with her overnight bag. 

“Probably not.” Ginny walked over to her friend and gave her a hug. “Thank you for staying with me last night. It really helped.”

“Ditto,” Hermione said, returning the hug.

Ginny let go and turned to Fred. “And thank you letting me steal her for the evening.”  
Fred held up his hands and shook his head. “I don’t let her do anything. She’s her own witch, free to come and go as she pleases.”

“And he passes the test,” Ginny laughed. “Guess I won’t have to hex you….at least not today.”


	18. Chapter 18

June 2003

“You’ve got Muggle mail,” Fred announced when Hermione walked into the shop. 

“My parents?” Hermione questioned, squeezing herself and James past customers. 

“Nope.” He slid a large manilla envelope to the end of the counter and continued to check out a father and his young daughter.

“Let’s play pass the baby,” Hermione said, handing James off to George. She picked up the large envelope and looked at the neat, block letters, addressing the parcel to WEASLEY/GRANGER. She didn’t recognize the script and was surprised to find the envelope’s seal had already been broken. “It’s been opened already.”

“It says Weasley and Granger. I thought I was part of that pairing. Have a great day!” Fred said, as the pair of customers left. “Apparently the Weasley it’s referring to is Ginny. Go on, check it out,” he encouraged with a knowing grin.

Hermione gave him a skeptical look and peeked into the package. It was stuffed full of individual envelopes, each labeled with different names. With a racing heart, Hermione shuffled past the familiar names- Bill, Charlie, Molly and Arthur- until she found her name. Unlike the lettering on the front, this handwriting was as familiar as her own, having spent many evenings correcting essays written in the untidy scribbles. 

She pulled out her envelope, tossing the pack to the side. She hastily tore it open and read it three times over within a minute.

 

Hermione,

I hope this letter doesn’t take long to get to you, as I’m sure everyone is worried and anxious to hear from us. I don’t have much time to write this. We’ve only just been told that if we wanted to send a quick word home there was someone that would be able to send out letters through the Muggle post. Ron is currently furiously scribbling out letters to every member of his family. I told him he’s crazy, but he’s persistent. I hope they’re able to read his chicken scratch. 

I know we have been gone for what feels like forever and a day. I can’t say much because we’re still in the middle of operations. But I wanted to reassure you that we are safe and things are going as planned, just not a quickly as we had initially hoped. I wish I could give a definite date as to when we’ll be home, but I can predict that with as much certainty as I can predict what we’ll have for dinner tomorrow night. Could be one week? Maybe a month? Who knows, maybe I’ll be reading these letters with you all. 

Mainly we just wanted to seize the chance to reassure everyone that we’re fine and missing you all like crazy. Ginny still wants to marry me, right? There hasn’t been some other hunky wizard swooping in, trying to take my place?

And now I’m being given the signal to wrap it up. I wish we could give you a way to write back to us, but of course that runs the chance of compromising the mission. With any luck, we’ll see everyone soon. Miss you!

 

Love,

Harry

Hermione looked at a Fred, tears running down her cheeks. “They’re okay,” she croaked, clutching the letter to her chest. 

“As if there was ever any doubt,” Fred reassured, wrapping her in a hug and kissing her head. 

Relief flooded her head and her heart. Her best friends were safe! She hugged Fred tightly and it felt like she was letting go of all the tension she had been holding in for the past year. 

“I take it you two already found your letters from Ron?” Hermione sniffled, hastily wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

George laughed as he bounced James on his hip. “Yes, if you want to call them letters. It was a few lines stating that he was okay and that the meals were horrible.”

“Do you know what this word is?” Fred asked, holding his letter out to Hermione. 

She followed his finger to a specific word in the middle of the page and giggled. 

“Quality.”

“Oooh.” Fred pulled the letter back and reread it. “I was wondering why they would be serving ‘shite Quaffles of food’.” He tucked the parchment back into an envelope and pulled a small box from under the counter. “Speaking of Quaffles, I have something for our future Quidditch star.” From the box, he pulled out a small, green Harpies shirt. He held it up triumphantly, turning it around so that Hermione could see the name ‘POTTER’ emblazoned on the back, with the number 7. “Thought it would be cool for him to wear to his very first game.”

“It’s adorable! Mummy will love that.” 

Ginny had returned to the Harpies several weeks before and started training with the team again. During the days when she was in Wales, Hermione and Molly were taking turns watching James. Molly would have him during the day and then Hermione would pick him up after she got off work. Some nights she would take him back to her flat, some nights they went back to Ginny’s. Tonight though, her, Fred, George, and Angelina were all taking James to Ginny’s first game since her maternity leave.

“Arms up, little guy,” Hermione said, pulling the new jersey over James’ head and helping his tiny arms through the holes. James giggled and launched himself  out of George’s arms and into Hermione’s. “I’ll take the rest of these letters to the Burrow and then jmeet you guys at the stadium. Sound good?”

“Sure, we just have to lock up and do a quick clean.” Fred leaned in to kiss her and James smacked his cheek. “Hey, she was mine first!” he cried, in mock protest, and tickled the little boy’s belly. While James laughed, Fred stole a quick kiss.

Hermione used the shop’s floo to travel back to the Burrow. Molly was just setting the table for her and Arthur’s dinner. It always caught Hermione off guard when she saw Molly setting the table for only two. She was used to seeing the scrubbed oak table groaning under the weight of various dishes, surrounded by the ever growing Weasley family. 

“Hermione? What are you doing back here, dear?” Molly asked as she floated two salad bowls to the table. “Did you forget something?”

“We got letters!” Hermione cried, waving the stuffed envelope. “From Ron and Harry,” she explained to Molly’s perplexed look.

“Is it..?” Molly started, trailing off as her eyes started glistening with tears.

“All good news,” Hermione reassured.

“Oh thank heavens!” Molly rushed to her side as Hermione pulled the letters out. “Are they coming home?”

“No, at least not at the time they wrote these. They’re not allowed to give out much information aside from that they’re alright.”

Molly took the letter with her’s and Arthur’s names and eagerly tore it open. Hermione could see that Ron had taken a little more time and care writing his parent’s letter than he had with his brother’s.

“Those poor boys! It sounds like they’re starving them!”

Hermione laughed. “I think starving is Ron’s permanent state of being.”

Molly couldn’t help but chuckle. She wrapped Hermione in a hug. 

“Thank you for bringing this over. It’s a relief to know they’re both safe.”

“Of course,” Hermione said, kissing her cheek. “Can you owl out the these two to Bill and Charlie? I’ll give Ginny’s to her after the match.” She pulled a baby wrap out of James’s diaper bag, waved her wand, and the warp secured itself to her frame. “If they lose the match, it’ll help bring her mood up. If they win, it’ll be the icing on the cake,” she commented as she tried to wrangle the squirmy baby into the harness.

“Gin will be over the moon either way,” Molly assured. “Go on now, you don’t want to miss the start of the match.” She gave both James and Hermione quick hugs before returning to setting the table.

“Hold on tight little guy.”

Hermione clutched James to her chest and apparated them to the front gate of the Harpies’ stadium. The ticket checker knew her so well she just waved Hermione through the gate with a big smile, without making her dig her season pass out of the diaper bag. Apparition was prohibited within the stadium, so she proceeded to climb the infinite sets of stairs to the private box that players were able to reserve for family and friends.

“Hey, you made it!” Fred cried, when Hermione finally pushed through the door. “We were hoping you might have stopped and gotten drinks.” 

Hermione must have achieved the look she was striving for because Fred grimaced and recoiled slightly.

“But you didn’t and that’s great, because it gives me a chance to go and stretch my legs! Be right back!” He kissed Hermione’s head and quickly let himself out of the box.

“He’s so lucky I like him,” Hermione mumbled, letting herself fall into the nearest chair.

This change in position did not please James. He started pushing himself away from Hermione, but was still held tight by the wrap. His hands slipped from Hermione’s chest and slammed into Hermione’s neck, causing her to let out a strangled yelp.

“All right little Potter,” George laughed, lifting the baby from the harness. “You’re not allowed to strangle Aunt Min.” He tossed James in the air, eliciting an excited squeal from the little boy. “What is he chewing on?” he asked, eyeing up the drool covered toy in James’ hand.

“Oh, it’s a Chocolate Frog card,” Hermione answered, pulling the wrap off of her and stuffing it back into the diaper bag.

He tilted his head, trying to get better view. “Harry’s?”

“Yeah, I got it in my box the other day. As I was watching his picture come and go, it hit me that James isn’t going to know Harry when he does finally return. So I worked out an enchantment and was able to transfigure the card into a teething toy. Now we get to talk to dada, right James?” She reached out and tickled the baby’s foot and he giggled, smacking the card against George’s head.

“Clever,” George acknowledged, watching as Picture Harry grimaced and ran out of frame to avoid the descending river of drool. “Remind me next week to pick your brain about the enchantment properties. I’m getting flashes of product ideas.”

“Will I get a cut of the profits?”

“Of all the witches in Britain my brother could date, he had to go with one that knows how to litigate,” George muttered.

“Your mum was very happy with her letter,” Hermione said, ignoring his jab. “Though Ron has her convinced that they’re on the brink of starvation. When they return, she’s not gonna let those two out of the kitchen until we literally have to roll them out.”

“I think it’s good for Ronnikins to feel some hunger pangs,” Fred said, reappearing behind Hermione and handing her a bottle of lager. “He needs a wake up call every few years to make him appreciate a hot meal.”

Hermione nodded, saying, “I feel bad for Harry, having to suffer through him again. I’ll be surprised if Ron returns unhexed.”

Fred held out two more bottles for George and Angelina, but Ang waved hers away.

“I’ll happily take hers. Drinking for two these days,” George said, passing James to a now irate Angelina.

“I thought we had agreed on three more weeks,” she hissed, pulling her ponytail out of James’ grasp.

“Oh, I just--didn’t mean--I was--,” George stuttered. He looked to Fred and Hermione for help, but the two could only just shrug.

Hermione was confused for half a moment. She had heard the old phrase ‘eating for two’, when women were pregnant, but never drinking for….she gasped and threw her hands up over her mouth.

“Really?” Hermione squealed, looking at Angelina. With an exaggerated sigh, Angelina nodded. “Aww!” She ran over and wrapped Ang in a hug, squishing James between them.

“What am I missing?” Fred asked.

“Mate, seriously?” George laughed.

“Give him a minute, he’ll get there,” Hermione assured, not letting Ang go until James started grabbing fistfuls of both their hair. She freed herself and Ang from James’ iron grip and turned back to her boyfriend. He had a bemused look on his face. “In Angelina’s current state, she can’t have alcohol,” she hinted.

Fred’s eyes went wide and he looked from his brother, to Angelina, and then back to George. Finally, he let out an excited whoop, and pulled his twin in for a hug.

“Wow, congratulations man!” He let go of George and kissed Angelina on the cheek. “That’s wonderful news!”

“This is just between us, though,” Angelina warned. “I have my first appointment in three weeks. After that, we’ll tell everyone the news.”

“It seems like baby fever is going around,” Hermione said. She opened up the diaper bag and pulled out James’ travel cot that she had shrunk down. “Poor Fleur is so miserable. Everytime one of the owls arrives, we expect it to be from Bill, saying the baby has finally arrived.”

She restored the cot to its normal size and Angelina sat James in it. Hermione put a few toys in for him, which he promptly started throwing out of the cot. It had become his new favorite game.

“So, when will you lot be joining the club?” George asked, with a wink.

“Unless you want this to be your only child, I’d hold your tongue,” Hermione said, pointing her wand at him.

George laughed and held up his hands. “Just thinking out loud. No need to take it out on the twigs and berries. Crikey! Careful with this one, Freddy boy. Ow!” He grabbed his shoulder where Hermione has poked him with her wand. 

“We are always very,  _ very  _ careful. Right?” Hermione said wrapping her arms around Fred’s waist and grinning up at him.

“Yup, always careful,” Fred agreed. The smile he returned though was lacking in his usual mirth. Hermione was about to question it, but a booming voice filled the stadium and pulled everyone’s attention to the viewing balcony. 

Hermione tried to let it go, but Fred’s mood seemed to have done a complete one-eighty, and she couldn’t figure out why. He chatted easily with George and Angelina about the match. While Hermione could enjoy a game of Quidditch, she wasn’t well versed enough in the semantics that she could contribute to the play-by-play commentary of the others. Usually she would just stand by Fred and listen in. 

Tonight was no different, except Fred seemed off with her. If she asked him something, his answers with short and his tone was frigid. On any other day, she’d lean against him and feel like her body melted into his. A steel beam would have been more welcoming to her that evening, though.

“Hey Ang. I need the loo. Want to join me?” Hermione asked, using the tried and true code for women everywhere that signaled ‘I need to talk’.

“Yeah, my bladder is constantly full these day,” Angelina answered, giving Hermione a sympathetic smile.

“Keep an eye on James, yeah?” Hermione said, looking at George, purposefully avoiding Fred’s gaze.

George nodded. The girls swiftly made their way out of the box and didn’t speak until they were down the hall and out of earshot.

“What’s going on tonight?” Angelina asked.

“Okay, good! It’s not just me then!” Hermione exclaimed. “I feel like my boyfriend has been Imperiused tonight.”

“No, it’s very noticable. Is he upset about the baby? That seems to have been the turning point for his attitude.” Angelina chewed on her lip, clearly worried that her good news had somehow spoiled Fred’s night.

“I don’t see how, or why he would be? He loves kids.” 

They passed the bathrooms and just kept walking the halls, discussing what Fred’s problem could be. They returned to the box just as the stadium erupted in cheers and the announcer declared the Harpies the winning team.

“What a catch!” Fred called, clapping and waving as Ginny flew past them.

“Glad her first game back was win,” Hermione said, tentatively linking her arm through his.

He instantly stiffened at her touch. 

“Yeah, it was a good game.” He patted her hand and went back into the suite.

Okay, now she was pissed and tired of playing nice.  She wouldn’t make a scene here, in front of George and Ang, but Merlin help her when she got home.

“You ready?” Fred asked, lazily motioning to the fireplace.

“No, you go ahead. I need to go give Ginny her letter, and her baby,” Hermione said, nodding towards James, sleeping in his cot. She bit her tongue, stopping herself from saying exactly what was on her mind at the moment. 

Fred nodded and stepped into the floo without saying another word to anybody.

“What’s his--”

“We don’t know,” Hermione and Angelina said, simultaneously answering George’s question before he could finish it.

George shrugged and slowly lifted James from the travel cot, so Hermione could shrink it back down and put it in the diaper bag. The exhausted baby fussed as George transferred him into Hermione’s arms, but was fast asleep again as soon as his head found her shoulder. After farewells and more congratulations, George and Ang flooed home and Hermione trekked down to the team’s dressing room. 

She only had to wait about ten minutes. Ginny wasted no time changing out of her robes and meeting Hermione.

“Such a sleepy little boy,” Ginny whispered, kissing James’ head. “Please stay that way!”

Hermione smiled and pulled the envelope with Ginny’s name from the bag. “Before I hand over the baby, you may want to have a look at this.”

Ginny took the envelope and hers eyes and smile went wide when she saw the familiar handwriting. She eagerly ripped open the letter. As her eyes scanned the parchment, they started glistening with tears. At the end, she threw her arms around Hermione and squeezed her tight. 

“I wish we could write them back,” she sobbed.

“I know,” Hermione whispered, stroking her friend’s hair with her one free hand. “It’s a relief though, knowing they’re both okay.”

“It is,” Ginny agreed, sniffling and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Would you like to come over and have a late dinner with me?”

“I would, but I need to get home. Your brother has a wand up his arse and it would seem I put it there,” Hermione sighed in annoyance.

“Ew! I don’t want to know about the kinky shit you two get up to!”

Hermione rolled her eyes and passed the sleeping baby to Ginny. “I’ll see you Sunday, at dinner.”

She took her time exiting the stadium and walking to the Apparition Prohibition Border. She wanted to make sure she was calm when she arrived home, or else she was liable to say things she would end up regretting.

The flat appeared quiet and empty when she let herself in, but Fred’s trainers were by the door so she knew he was there.

“Fred?” she called, tossing her keys and purse onto the coffee table.

He wasn’t in the kitchen or the bedroom. The bathroom door was open, revealing nothing but darkness. She stared down the hallway, towards the second bedroom. He rarely went into that room anymore. All his clothes had progressively made their way into her wardrobe and dresser. But, she could see a sliver of light shining under the door.

She slowly opened the door and found Fred lying on the bed, reading a book. He didn’t even look up when she walked in.

“What are you doing in here?” Hermione asked, moving to the foot of the bed.

“Last I checked, this was my room. It’d be nice if you’d knock before coming in,” he answered, not taking his eyes off of the book.

Hermione went to speak, yet no words came out. She had so many things she wanted to scream at him in that moment, but they all seemed to want to come out at the same time and caused a traffic jam in her brain. 

At last she found her voice and shouted, “Are you fucking kidding me, Weasley?” And she slapped the book out of his hands.

Fred bolted upright as the book flew across the room and hit the floor with a thud. He was finally looking at Hermione, his chocolate eyes smoldering. Hermione glared back at him, breathing hard and fast.

“Godric, you’re such a child sometimes!” Hermione turned on her heel and stalked from  _ his  _ room.

“I’m the child?!” he called after her. She heard his feet hit the floor and stomp up the hallway. He followed her into the kitchen and pointed an accusing finger at her. “I’m not the one assaulting people to get attention!”

Hermione growled and smacked his hand away. Her calm and collectivism was gone. Imminent tears stung her eyes and clouded her vision.

“It seems to be the only way I can get you to speak more than five words to me!” Hermione clenched her fists so as to keep herself from punching a wall. “Look, if I’ve done something to offend you, I will happily apologize. But I have no clue what’s pissed you off tonight. It’d be really helpful if you’d stop throwing this passive aggressive tantrum and just fucking talk to me!”

“You want to know why I’m pissed off?” Fred yelled.

“For the love of all things holy, yes!”

“I’m pissed off because the girl I’m in love with has been leading me on for months and now I feel like I can’t look at her the same!”

Tears cascaded down Hermione’s face and all she could do was stand and stare at Fred in disbelief. Her throat felt tight and she was finding it hard to catch her breath. She was angry, confused, heartbroken, and at a loss for words. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she finally replied, her voice raspy. She winced in pain as she tried to force her words out. “I have been nothing but honest with you the last six months and have loved you with all my heart. So, in whatever way I have led you on, I am truly sorry.”

With that, she silently made her way to her room, slamming the door behind her. Collapsing on the bed, she eventually cried herself to sleep. She wasn’t sure how long she slept, but the sky was still pitch black when she was awoken by the hallway light spilling into the bedroom. Cracking one weary eye open, she watched as Fred crawled into bed and laid down beside her.

His eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot and she caught a whiff of Firewhiskey on his breath. He didn’t say anything for quite some time. They just laid and stared at each other.

“I want kids,” he finally whispered, brushing her hair away from her face. “I’ve always known I want kids. And if you don’t, I don’t think that’s something I’ll be able to get past.”

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to replay the events of the evening, attempting to find the trail that had led Fred to this insane assumption.

“Hold that thought. I need to pee,” she whispered, her throat raw and scratchy.

Fred didn’t say anything as Hermione rolled off the bed and padded down to the bathroom. After emptying her aching bladder, she grimaced at her reflection as she washed her hands. Her eyes were red and puffy and her already crazy curls had completely taken on a mind of their own. 

After splashing water on her face and slurping a few gulps of water straight from the faucet, she returned to the bedroom. Instead of laying back down, she sat cross legged on the bed, in front of Fred. He slowly sat up and she smiled, cupping his face in her hands.

“You are the most infuriating man on the planet, Fred Weasley.” She ran her thumb softly over his tear stained cheek. “Dating you has helped give me patience for the day when we actually do have children.”

“You mean, you do want kids?” Fred asked confusedly. “With me?”

“Well, I mean you are currently at the top of my list, since Brad Pitt still isn’t returning my calls.” Hermione answered. 

“Brad Pitt? That’s a stupid name. Bet he has a stupid name,” Fred grumbled. 

Hermione gave him a playful shove and was rewarded with one of Fred’s crooked smiles. “What suddenly gave you this absurd idea that I don’t want kids?” she asked.

“Tonight, at the match, when George talked about us ‘joining the club’. You were very quick to shut down the conversation and threaten him with castration.”

Hermione started giggling, which evolved into her laughing so hard she fell backwards onto the bed. 

“Are you quite finished?” Fred asked, rolling his eyes as Hermione started wheezing, trying to catch her breath.

She held out her hand and Fred pulled her up. Wiping the tears from her eye, she couldn’t help but let a few more chuckles escape. Honestly! Of all the things for him to get his knickers in a twist over, this was the last thing she had expected.

“I said that because I don’t want kids  _ right now _ . I like how things are at the moment and I’m enjoying where we are in our relationship. I’m in no rush to change it.” She leaned forward and captured his lips with hers. “I like sleeping in on Saturday mornings. I like being able to go out for last minute dates where I can have a few drinks, get tipsy, then come back here and shag you anywhere I please.” She kissed him again, deeper this time, and hummed in contentment when she felt his hands caress her sides. “When I feel the call of motherhood, trust me, you’ll be the first to know.”

Fred pulled her close, while nudging her back down onto the mattress so that her head now rested at the foot of the bed.

“I love you,” he whispered, peppering kisses along her jaw. “I’m sorry for acting like such a tit. Can you please forgive me?”

“Hmmm,” Hermione sighed as Fred’s hands slid under her shirt and up her back. “I’ll let you know in about thirty minutes.” She squealed with laughter when he pinched her sides and playfully bit her neck. 

Half an hour later, give or take a few minutes, Fred was snuggled up to Hermione’s side, with his head resting on her chest while she ran her fingers through his hair. 

“Am I forgiven now?” Fred mumbled.

“I suppose,” Hermione said with a mockingly heavy sigh. “Are you doing to tell me the real reason behind why you were acting like an Imperiused arsehole?”

He groaned and ran a hand over his face. He rolled onto his back and scooted down until he was face to face with Hermione. 

“Because you’re right. I’m a fucking child, who felt like he was being left behind by his best friend,” Fred admitted. 

“The baby,” Hermione said, smiling gently as she ran her fingertips over his freckled shoulder and down his arm.

“Yeah, the baby. I really am excited for them. It’s just the news feels like it came out of nowhere and it hit me like a fricken train. I realized for the first time, George and I are leading very different lives.”

“You know that’s a good thing, right?”

Fred gave her a sheepish smile and let his head drop. “Yes, I know it’s a good thing and I always knew it would happen.”

“But?”

“But...I guess I thought it would happen more gradually, you know what I mean?” 

Hermione shook her head and Fred elaborated. “George and I have just naturally done everything together. We grew up together, obviously. We went to school together. Had all the same classes together. We even left school together.”

“In a spectacular blaze of glory, I might add,” Hermione interjected.

“You can’t half-arse the important things, Miss let’s feed the DADA professor to a herd of centaurs.”

Hermione laughed. “That bitch had it coming.”

“Fair point.” Fred sighed and continued with his explanation. “But now George is married and expecting a baby, and I’m…” he trailed off, staring up at the ceiling.

“What are you?” Hermione asked softly, moving so that she could look him in the eyes.

“Not?” Fred answered uncertainly. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you’ve been left behind. Your paths have finally split and you’re both doing your own thing. Just because yours is different from his doesn’t mean it’s inferior.” Hermione crawled on top him and bent down til their noses were touching. “You’ve accomplished so much to be proud of. You started up your own business, at a time when people thought it insane to do so. And it’s not just a mild success. Kids can’t imagine going back to school without a stash of Wizard Wheezes in their trunks. You haven’t terrorized those halls in years and professors are still cursing your name. You’re an amazing friend, uncle, brother, and much smarter than you want to admit. On top of all of your success, you’re dating an intelligent, half decent looking witch.” She mirrored his cheeky smile before finally asking, “Are you happy?”

Fred beamed up at her. “More than I ever thought possible.”

“Then no one could look at you and say you’ve been ‘left behind’. And you’re completely mad if you think so.”

“I am completely mad though.”

“You are,” Hermione agreed with a kiss. “But for a number of other reasons.”

“I have one point of contention though with your assessment of my life.”

“Of course you do.”

“I’m not dating an intelligent, half decent looking witch.” Fred grabbed her waist and flipped her over. Hermione let out a surprised squeak, but was quickly silenced as his eyes locked with hers. “I’m madly in love with the most brilliant and gorgeous woman, who is completely out of my league yet somehow loves me anyway, and constantly shows me that I am the luckiest bastard on the planet.”

Before Hermione could reply, Fred had trapped her lips in a deep, slow, sensual kiss. She pulled him close, tangling her fingers in his hair. When she nibbled his lip, he groaned and rolled his hips against hers, indicating that there would be no more sleep for them tonight. 

 

 

A/N- Sorry it's been so long between chapters here. For those who may not follow my Dramione story, it's been a crazy couple of months. We welcomed a new wizard into the family and then moved from SoCal to NorCal and the transitions haven't been easy. Kids tend to suck away a lot of my writing time and energy. Things are calming down though and I'm working writing time back into my schedule. Thanks for the patience and all the wonderful kudos and reviews! <3


	19. Chapter 19

**August 2003**

 

“I don’t think it’s going to matter how amazing your dinner is or how big a bouquet of flowers you get. The long and short of it is Hermione is going to kill you.”

Fred shot an exasperated look at his twin.

“Give me all the death stares you want, you know it’s true,” George laughed. He turned to his wife for affirmation. “Back me up here, Ang.”

“I’m staying out of this,” Angelina answered, her eyes never leaving her copy of Witch Weekly.

“That means yes,” George said, turning back to Fred. “I’m still shocked Minerva agreed to it.”

“It took a lot of sweet talking. But Hagrid appears to be happy enough sharing his flock. I got two feet of parchment full of care instructions,” Fred said, patting his trouser pocket. “Alright, if I’m going to beat her home I have to get going. Thanks for covering for me Ang!”

“Good luck,” Angelina called back, giving Fred a wave as he hurried out the door.

Before apparating home, Fred stopped at the Diagon Alley florist and picked up the biggest bouquet of flowers he could carry. He hoped they would help him stay on his girlfriend’s good side after telling her about what came along with the new product he was testing.

He apparated to the front door of the flat and his stomach did a flip-flop. Muffled sounds of chaos could already be heard, loudest among them was Hermione’s cries of frustration.

“Bugger all,” Fred groaned, smacking his head against the door.

Within ten seconds the door was whipped open and Fred was met by Hermione’s manic face. Half her hair was still pulled back, but the other half was standing on end, framing her face almost like a lion’s mane. He couldn’t help but think the growl she let slip made her sound like a lion also. The Sorting Hat really is never wrong….

“Hello, darling,” Hermione greeted through gritted teeth. “There wouldn’t happen to be something you forgot to tell me, would there?”

“I’m sorry,” Fred said meekly, holding out the flowers.

Hermione snatched the bouquet and moved aside so Fred could enter. He slipped his trainers off and Hermione swiftly scooped them up and placed them on the bookcase.

“If anything is left on the floor, the Crup will either chew it up or pee on it,” she explained to Fred’s bemused look.

“What’s going on?” Fred asked, turning on the spot to survey the damage.

The sofa cushions were upended. Feathers were floating around, apparently ripped from a ravaged throw pillow. Towels were thrown over various puddles. As Fred knelt down to inspect teeth marks on the coffee table, something black swooped over his head. He looked up to see a raven perch on the back of the sofa. Immediately a rust-colored Crup bounded in and jumped onto the sofa. Feathers went flying once more and the raven screeched before taking flight towards the main bedroom.

“I was really hoping you’d be able to tell me that,” Hermione said, nudging the Crup away with her leg. Her effort was futile though. The Crup weaved between her legs and took a bite out of one of the sunflowers in the bouquet. “No! No!” Hermione scolded, holding the flowers over her head. “Aside from this thing and the raven, there is a Demiguise hanging from the shower head. There’s a Niffler tearing apart our bedroom. And somewhere amongst the ruin, there’s the Bowtruckle that unlocked all their cages and set them free.”

“There’s also a snake climbing your leg,” Fred pointed out, cringing slightly.

“And there’s a snake on my leg.” Hermione glanced down and screamed, sending the Crup running into the kitchen. “There’s a snake on my leg! Get it off, get it off, get it off!”

She held her leg out and Fred hurried forward to untwist the reptile. He was relieved to see it was just a common ball python and nothing too exotic.

“What the hell was Hagrid thinking?” Fred sighed, letting the snake wrap around his arm.

“What the hell were you thinking, Fred Weasley?!” Hermione shrieked. “I got an owl this morning from Professor McGonagall, wondering if I knew my boyfriend was setting up his own menagerie. I got here just in time to see that blasted Bowtruckle release the raven. I didn’t even know there was a bloody snake in the mix!”

“There wasn’t supposed to be a snake in the mix.” Fred took a step forward, but Hermione recoiled, and he silently cursed himself. The snake was still on his arm and Hermione has had an understandable fear of snakes since the war had ended. “I”m sorry, Min. I asked McGonagall if I could borrow a few of Hagrid’s creatures for a day or two, to test one of the new inventions we’ve been working with. Nothing that will hurt them,” Fred quickly assured as Hermione’s face contorted in disgust.

“It’s a serum that causes the imbiber to temporarily lose their voice,” Fred continued. “I was only supposed to be getting the raven, Crup, and niffler. I guess Hagrid got a little carried away.”

“A little is an understatement,” Hermione muttered.

“Let me get the demiguise from the bathroom. Then you can lock yourself in there, have a nice long bath, and I will get this lot sorted out and the flat back in order.”

“What about the snake?” she said, grimacing as the snake slithered up to Fred’s neck.

“I’ll find somewhere to rehome him for the weekend. Maybe he can stay at Ginny’s place. I’m sure James would get a kick out of him.”

Hermione nodded and Fred went to clear the creatures from the bathroom. The Demiguise was still hanging from the shower and he found the crup drinking from the toilet. After they were secured in their cages, Fred lured the raven back to its cage by dropping a worm on the cage floor. He had to wrestle with the Niffler to get it out of the closet and away from Hermione’s grandma’s old costume jewelry. By the time the Niffler was back in its pen and crunching on biscuits, Fred was exhausted and decided to just Accio the wandering Bowtruckle. The little twig-like creature zoomed into his hand and immediately started jabbing Fred’s fingers, in a valiant bid for freedom.

The snake stayed relaxed around Fred’s neck through the creature retrieval process and the ensuing cleanup effort. The only thing Fred couldn’t fix was the chew marks on the coffee table, and necklace from the costume collection was missing a gemstone. He knew if he waited a couple hours, they would get it back, but he had a feeling Hermione wouldn’t want it back after that.

“Everything is back to normal and everyone is back in their proper cages,” Fred called through the closed bathroom door. “I’m taking the snake to Ginny’s, but I won’t be gone long.”

As Fred had expected, Ginny didn’t bat an eye when he walked out of the floo with a snake wrapped around his neck. After growing up with six older brothers, not much phased her and she was more than used to various creatures and critters coming and going.

His sister agreed to keep the snake for a few days and when he left James was poking a chubby little finger along various parts of its body.

Upon his return to the flat, he found Hermione in the kitchen, throwing vegetables into a pot of steaming broth. Her iPod was on, drowning out the noise of the animals. He walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and started swaying to the music.

 

_Ah, now when she comes walkin' over_

_Now I've been waitin' to show her_

_Crimson and clover, over and over_

 

“I like this song,” Fred murmured. “What’s it called?”

“Crimson and Clover,” Hermione answered. She leaned back against him, stirring the stew, and letting her body sway with his. She closed her eyes and smiled. “This reminds me of my childhood.”

“How so?”

“This was my parents’ song, and whenever it came on my dad would drop whatever he was doing and dance with my mum. I used to think it was cheesy and embarrassing when my friends were visiting, but I’ve come to see how sweet it is and what a hopeless romantic my dad is, even though he’ll deny if you tell him so.”

“You’re parents were hippies, weren’t they?”

“They prefer to be called ‘free spirits’.”

Fred smiled into her neck and drew her closer. As the song played on, a question popped into his head and he couldn’t believe he had never thought to ask it before.

“Do you have a favorite band?”

“Yes,” Hermione immediately answered. “Well, not a band, but a singer. Roy Orbison.”

“Really?” The name was familiar to Fred, as the man’s songs had popped up on Hermione’s playlist quite often. “I wouldn’t have guessed that in a million years”

“My record collection didn’t give that away?” Hermione chuckled.

“I know you have a lot of his albums--”

“All his albums,” Hermione corrected.

“But you also have all the albums from The Beatles, and Queen, and those New Block Kids.”

Hermione’s face flushed. “New Kids on the Block, and you broke the rule about never talking about that period of my pre-teen years!”

“Apologies. Punish me accordingly later.” He kissed her rosy cheek and went to the icebox for a Butterbeer.  “What’s so special about Roy?”

Hermione set the stew to simmering and summoned a loaf of bread. She frowned as she inspected the end that was missing a couple chunks.

“Bloody raven,” she muttered, sawing off the ruined end and tossing it into the bin. “Roy Orbison is the first artist I remember singing along to. My dad loves him and would play his albums every Sunday when it was his turn to make breakfast. We’d sing Pretty Woman while making eggy bread and sausage.”

Fred settled into a chair, watching Hermione slice up the bread while she reminisced. He loved learning little facts about her past. He knew the basics, as any decent boyfriend would, but moments like this was like finding pieces to a puzzle you never knew were missing.

“And now I know why I get ‘Only the Lonely’ stuck in my head every Sunday,” Fred mused.

“Yeah, well better that then some of those songs I get stuck in my head from your Appraising Mirror,” Hermione groused, pointing the knife in his direction. “I ended up asking my boss yesterday if he thought I was sexy because that thing wouldn’t stop playing Rod Stewart while I did my makeup.”

“What was his answer?” Fred asked, narrowing his eyes.

“That’s not the point of my story,” Hermione huffed, turning back to the stove to give the stew a quick stir.

“Inquiring minds need to know. What did he say?”

“He said he would neither confirm or deny that fact as he was a happily married man who valued his job and his relationship with his brother.

Fred grinned as he imagined Percy’s petrified face as Hermione unknowingly sang such a “racey” song to him. His older brother had recently been promoted to oversee several departments, including Hermione’s.

“Good man,” Fred said with a nod.

“One of these days, I will figure out the spell to unstick that damn mirror and put my proper one back up,” she said, shaking her head.

Their Appraising Mirror idea had been a bust. He and George had been able to get songs charmed onto the mirror, but instead of playing just a fun, quick music clip, it repeated the clip over and over until the person stepped away from it. Fred admitted that it did get a bit annoying. He was putting more and more days between shaving cause he couldn’t stand the repetition of “I’m a joker, I’m a smoker, I’m a midnight toker”. What he didn’t want to admit is that he had no clue how to unstick the mirror either.

“So, are you going to tell me more about why you decided to turn the second bedroom into a petting zoo?” Hermione asked, setting a bowl of stew and plate of bread in front of him.

“Because McGonagall wouldn’t loan us a house elf,” Fred answered, shoving a hunk of bread into his mouth.

“Fred! You didn’t?”

“What?” Fred said, spraying bits of bread across the table. He swallowed and continued, “We needed something bigger than mice and rats. A house elf would have been able to tell us about any effects they experienced.”

“House elves are not personal test subjects,” Hermione said, sitting down across from him.

“We would have paid them!” Fred defended. “House elf welfare aside, we’ve made some great progress with this serum. It’s been working perfectly with the rodents. We want to make sure it’s just a simple in and out sort of potion, and not something that burns off depending on the imbiber’s metabolism.”

“Which one of you pulled the short straw on being the human test subject?”

“Me. George insists that since he’s going to a father he’s exempt from product testing. A load of bollocks, but I didn’t have the patience to argue him on it.”

Hermione stirred her stew, blowing away the steam, before taking a tentative bite.

“Oh, don’t forget, next week I’m going out with Ginny and the team for her birthday.”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten you’re going out to get drunk on a random Thursday,” Fred laughed.

“It’s not random. It’s your sister’s birthday. And I’m not going to get drunk. I’m just going to have a night out and celebrate,” Hermione insisted.

“I think you should take a long weekend, just in case.”

“Careful, or you won’t get any dessert,” Hermione warned, poking him with her spoon.” A sudden, screeching caw made them both jump. “Go put a silencing charm on that room before we start getting complaints from the neighbors.”

The following week past without incident. All of the creatures reacted as planned to the new serum, with no new or ill effects. Fred returned them all to Hagrid early Monday morning, thanking him for going above and beyond to help them, but assuring him that is was not necessary for any future loans.

Thursday night Fred took advantage of the empty flat to prepare a new batch of serum for their first human test run. To mask the bitterness of the potion, they had decided to put it in a mixture of dark and milk chocolate. If the testing was a success, that would be how they sold it.

Fred had just put the chocolate filled molds into the icebox to set when he heard the sound of the floo, followed by a thump and uncontrollable giggling. He quickly shut the icebox door and hurried into the living room. Hermione was lying flat on her back, laughing hysterically, with one shoe on and her skirt flipped up, showing off a barely-there pair of neon pink panties.

“I should have put a bet on you getting drunk tonight. Would have been the easiest money I ever made,” Fred said, shaking his head as he walked over to stand above his inebriated girlfriend.

“Alicia--” HIC! “Tequila shots. Couldn’t--” HIC! “Be rude.”

Fred chuckled and knelt down. “Will you be spending the night on the floor, or shall I help you to bed?”

“Depends. Would you like me to do things to you on the floor or on the bed?”

Fred raised his eyebrows. “Things, eh?”

“I may be tipsy--”

“Pissed as a newt, love.”

“But I’m not the least bit tired,” Hermione finished.

“As enticing as the floor is,” Fred said, scooping Hermione up, “I think the bedroom will be much more comfortable at the moment.

As he made his way down the hall, Hermione’s arm shot out and grabbed for the doorframe of the bathroom.

“Oh! I should really brush my teeth first!”

Fred ignore her flailing arm and asked, “Have you vomited?”

“No, but--”

“Then it’s okay,” Fred said, depositing her on the bed and then falling down beside her. He pulled her close and kissed her hard, savoring the sting of the alcohol on her tongue. “I like tequila.”

 

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

 

“Min.”

Hermione groaned and buried her face deeper into her pillow.

“Min!”

“No talk. Hurts,” Hermione moaned.

She felt her hair being lifted. Forcing one eye open, she found herself nose to nose with Fred.

“I have to leave, but I need you to listen to me for a minute,” he said, smoothing her hair back. “Blink once if you’re listening.”

Hermione tried to summon the energy to tell him to sod off, but it wasn’t there, so she slowly blinked once.

“Good. I left you a Pepper-Up potion by the toaster. There are two slices of bread in there, all you have to do is push it down.”

Hermione managed a little smile. She really had the best boyfriend around. Sure, sometimes he turned their apartment into a temporary zoo and invented silly singing mirrors. But he never failed to take care of her, even when the reason she needed it was because she ignored her sensible side and got caught up in her best friend’s birthday celebrations.

“--I left a note, right beside it, okay?”

Shit, he was still talking? Trying to save face, Hermione rolled over and mumbled, “Mmmhmm.”

“I really think you should just stay home and sleep this one off, love.”

“Norrrggglla.” Hermione grimaced and moved her tongue around her mouth, trying to come up with just a little bit of saliva. “Wa-wa-wa--”

“Wand or water?” Fred asked.

Hermione held up two fingers.

“I’m going to go ahead and assume you mean water and you’re not telling me to piss off.” Fred transfigured his bedside clock to a goblet and filled it up.

Hermione slowly sipped it from it and finally found her voice, though it was hoarse and scratchy.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured, taking another gulp of water. “If I laze about all day, I’ll just feel worse. That Pepper-Up potion should get me moving.”

“If you say so.” Fred leaned over and gave her a kiss. “I’ll see you tonight. Love you.”

“Love you,” Hermione called, before falling back on the bed once more.

It took another twenty minutes for her to summon the strength to roll out of bed and shuffle into the kitchen. As promised, she was greeted by the sight of bread in the toaster and a small vial of yellow potion. She lowered the toast and was consumed with a wave of nausea. When she threw open the window, a blessed breeze washed over her face. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply until the nauseous feeling faded away.

When she opened the icebox for the butter, she smiled at the large plate of chocolates. Fred really was too good to her. She decided against having those until the potion and toast had safely settled in her stomach.

By the time she had taken a shower and dressed for work, Hermione was feeling much better. Maybe not quite one hundred percent, but on her way there. She grabbed her lunch, a handful of chocolates, and flooed to the Ministry.

“You’re late,” her secretary, Marian, scolded as she grabbed a stack of purple memos and The Daily Prophet from the IN basket.

“Rough morning,” Hermione said, unfolding a memo and sighing at the sight of the new intern’s handwriting. No doubt at least half of the other memos were from him also. Marvin was a sweet guy but had absolutely no clue what he was doing. His father was an Unspeakable though, so Hermione was expected to answer all of his questions with a smile, no matter how dumb and repetitive they were. “Please don’t tell me this dullard is in my office.”

“Sorry Miss Granger,” Marian said sympathetically. “I told him I’d let him know when you arrived, but he insisted on waiting.”

“Thanks, Mar.”

Hermione let out a heavy sigh and made her way to her office. As feared, Marvin Foster was in the small waiting area just outside her office, sitting on one of the faux leather chairs. He was a very tall and lanky man, with springy blond curls that he was constantly brushing away from his face.  The moment he saw her, he jumped to his feet.

“Morning Miss Granger!” he chirruped, waving madly as if she was a hundred meters away and might’ve not seen him. “Do you have a spare moment or two? I just have a few quick questions.”

“Of course, Marvin. Come on in.” Hermione took down the wards on her office and ushered the young intern inside.

“When you didn’t reply to my memos, I got worried.”

Hermione forced herself not to roll her eyes and flopped down in her desk chair. She tossed the memos to the side, figuring they were about to become useless.

“Apologies, my morning hasn’t gone quite as planned. What can I help you with, Marvin?”

The next half hour was spent explaining policies and procedures that were clearly laid out during training and in several handbooks. Marvin wouldn’t stop asking questions until Marian knocked on the door and let herself in, holding a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits.

“Oh, thank you, Marian!” Hermione said, cutting Marvin off mid-sentence.

Marvin looked at his watch and stood up. “Sorry Miss Granger. I didn’t realize how long I’ve been talking. If I have any more questions, I’ll send you a note.”

Marvin left and Hermione let her head drop onto her desk with a thud.

“I take it you won’t be recommending him for a position come autumn?” Marian chuckled, setting the tea and biscuits beside Hermione’s head.

Hermione groaned. She sat back up and brushed her hair from her face. “He does speak German. Maybe I can send him there.”

“Well, if you need something stronger in that tea, come see me. I’ve got a few choice ‘sweeteners’ in my desk,” Marian said with a wink.

Hermione’s stomach rolled at the thought and she shook her head. “Thank you, but I’ll stick with sugar for right now.”

When Marian left, Hermione sipped her tea and pulled the chocolates from her pocket. She popped one into her mouth and relaxed back into her chair. The chocolate was soothing as it melted in her mouth. She ate another and washed it down with the rest of the tea.

There was a knock on her door and Marian poked her head back in.

“He’s back,” she said, frowning.

“No,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “No. Tell him I’m not here. Better yet, tell him to go read a fu--”

Hermione felt her mouth moving, but no sound was coming out. She looked at Marian who stared at her expectantly.

“It’s alright, dear. You don’t have to censor yourself around me. I hear far worse from my husband,” Marian assured.

Hermione tried to tell her that she wasn’t trying to censor herself, but still, no words would come. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t even manage to force out a squeak or a whisper. Grabbing a quill, she scratched out a quick note

‘ _My voice disappeared!_ ’

“Oh!” Marian replied, glancing up from the note. “What could have done that? Did you eat something off today?”

Hermione shook her head and started scribbling, ‘ _toast, Pepper-Up, tea, ch_ ’. She dropped the quill and grabbed the last chocolate. On the top, were two linked **W** s imprinted in the sweet. ‘ _I need to go!_ ’ she wrote, and grabbed her bag.

She stepped into the floo and dropped the powder, but nothing happened. Head hung in defeat, she silently renounced her title of Brightest Witch of the Age.

Marian stepped forward took a pinch of powder. “Where can I send you, dear?”

Hermione held up her wand and the tip lit up. Thank Merlin for her non-verbal spell ability. In the air she drew a W, and then x3.

“Thought that might be the case,” Marian laughed. She dropped the powder and called out, “Weasley Wizard Wheezes!”

Hermione was engulfed in green flames and spun out through the network. Upon landing in the shop, she instinctively called out for Fred, but her silence was echoed. Outside the stockroom, the shop was empty save for George, who was at the counter leafing through a supply catalog. Hermione climbed up onto the stool beside him and plunked the chocolate in the middle of his catalog.

“Always a pleasant surprise when pretty girls bring me sweets,” George said, picking up the chocolate and lifting it to his mouth. Hermione smacked his hand and he shot her a disgruntled look. “You bring me candy, but won’t let me eat it. I don’t know what sort of kinky, withholding games you and Fred play, but--”

His sentence was cut short by Hermione urgently tapping the side of his face. Finally having his attention, she jabbed a finger at the chocolate, then to herself while making a slashing gesture across her throat. George looked down at the chocolate, finally spotting the **W** s, and his face lit up.

“Oh, Min…” he managed to croak out before laughter took over.

Hermione grabbed a quill and parchment, hastily writing ‘ _It’s not funny!_ ’

“Oh, come on! It’s a little bit funny. Ow! Geroff woman!” George cried as Hermione pelted him with an onslaught of smacks.

 

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

 

“ ‘ave a good one, Mr. Weasley!”

“Ta, Sam!” Fred called, pocketing his Owl Post receipt and stepping out into the bustling crowd of Diagon Alley.

The late summer weather was in perfect form. Bright blue sky with a gentle breeze staving off the humidity. There hadn’t been a rain cloud in sight for over a week, which was probably a London record.

Kids were weaving in and out of the throngs of shoppers, wary parents following close behind with school lists in hand. Fred knew that the Wheezes shop would be one of the last stops for many of them; their final summer holiday treats before returning to Hogwarts.

A new popup kiosk caught his eye and he had to do a double take at the man working the till. It was none other than Mundungus Fletcher. Except, this Mundungus was clean-cut, shaven, and wearing clean robes, with not a rip, stitch, or patch in sight. His cart stand was lined with fresh, brightly colored fruits and stacks of cups.

The pull of curiosity was too great and Fred sidestepped his usual path to go check out Mundungus’ wares.

“Hey there, Dung,” Fred greeted. “When did you turn into an entrepreneur?”

“Aye! ‘Ow are ya, Fred?” Mundungus said, reaching out to shake Fred’s hand. His face split into a large smile and Fred couldn’t help but notice he was still missing some teeth. Some things never changed, he supposed.

“What have you got going here?”

“Well, I’ll tell ya, lad. Been tryin’ to get meself on the straight and narrow. Gettin’ tired of the griftin’ life,” Mundungus said, shutting his register and leaning towards Fred. “I went and spent a bit o’ time in Muggle London. Wanted to see what made ‘em tick, ya know?”

“How’d that go for you?”

“Absolutely bostin! Muggles are fascinatin’. You ever been round any Muggles?” Mundungus asked.

Fred smiled and nodded. “My girlfriend is Muggle-born.”

“One thing I noticed people going wild for was these smoothie things. Certain shops had folks linin’ up out the door and down the footpath. I finally tried one meself and couldn’t deny, they’re bloody good. So I figured it was such a simple concept, even I couldn’t bugger that idea up!” Mundungus spread his arms wide, showing off his pride and joy. “Only difference is I don’ have one of those, what they call ‘em, smoosheens?”

“Smoosheen?” Fred mentally went through all of Hermione’s Muggle appliances and couldn’t recall her calling any of them a ‘smoosheen’. “Afraid I don’t follow, Dung.”

“It’s a contraption Muggles throw food into, push a button, and after a bunch of whirring noises the food is all liquified and ya can drink it,” Mundungus explained.

“Do you mean MA-chine?” Fred asked “Hermione has one of those. Think it’s called a blender.”

“Tha’s it, lad!” Mundungus said with a victorious clap. “Muggles have to hook up a bunch of cords and wires to make ‘em, but I foun’ a simple mixing spell has the same effect. Pick some fruit and I’ll show ya!”

“Sure, why not,” Fred said with a shrug. He looked over the selection and concluded that Mundungus wasn’t pulling any punches with his business venture. There was pretty much every fruit imaginable piled on the cart and in crates. “Let’s try strawberries, blueberries, and bananas.”

Mundungus nodded and set to work. He summoned the fruit, vanishing the banana peels, and dropped them into a bowl with milk and yoghurt. After a swift wave of his wand, he poured the deep purple contents into a cup, topping it off with a twisty straw and a small, pink novelty umbrella.

Fred took a tentative sip and gave an appreciative nod. “Not bad at all Dung. Can I get another to take along with George?”

With the second drink in hand, Fred gave Mundungus a Galleon and insisted on no change, letting him know he’d direct all of the Wizard Wheezes’ customers to his stand. The morning was turning out to be quite idyllic and he almost felt like whistling as he walked back to the shop.

The feeling didn’t last long. He walked into shouts from George, calling for a mass of curls to cease and desist.

“Do I even want to know?” Fred asked, slowly walking up to the counter.

Hermione backed off of George, flopping onto the stool and blowing the wisps of hair from her face. His brother took a few steps back, but wouldn’t take his eyes off Hermione as he accepted the smoothie Fred handed to him. Hermione looked from Fred to the drink, and back to him. She gave him an expectant look and he laughed.

“Sorry, darling. I didn’t know you would be dropping in for a surprise visit or I would have brought you one too. If you tell me what flavor you’d like, I’ll go back and have Dung whip one up for you.”

“Dung made this?” George said, looking down at his cup in shock.

“Yeah, I’m impressed too. What would you like Min? Any fruit you want, he’s got it. Pineapple? Raspberries? Pears?”

“Go ahead, Min. _Tell_ Fred what you’d like,” George said with a snicker. Hermione’s nostrils flared and she started smacking him again. “All right, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

A small square caught Fred’s eye and he picked it up. It was one of the chocolates he had made the night before. He finally realised why Hermione was here.

“Oh, Min…” Fred laughed.

Hermione looked at him, her face of a mixture of worry and frustration. Fred moved around to the back of the counter and gathered her in his arms.

“I told you this morning not to eat those. I even left a note, right beside the toaster.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed and he could see her trying to remember the note he had written. Suddenly her eyes got wide and she threw her hands up over her face. In a flurry of gestures, she grabbed her stomach and then mimed opening a window.

Fred nodded in understanding and said, “Must have got blown out of sight before you saw it. Well, I guess you took my place as our human test subject. If you don’t mind, we’re going to have to pick your brain and find out if you’re feeling any effects other than temporary muteness.”

Hermione started scribbling on a piece of parchment, then pushed it to Fred.

_Strawberry_

_Peach_

_Pineapple_

 

Ten minutes later, Fred had met Hermione’s negotiation terms and she was happily sipping her smoothie while he jotted down questions.

“Okay, what time did you eat the chocolate?”

‘ _2 pieces, around 9:00_ ’

Fred bit his lip and Hermione started frantically tapping his arm.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s just that we never experimented with double doses. Why would anyone need a double dose?” Fred scratched down a few notes, then asked, “Are you feeling anything out of the ordinary? Headache? Nausea? Dizziness?”

Hermione held up one finger and then two, but then held up both her hands like she was comparing the weight of imaginary objects.

“That’s true. They could very well still be lingering from your night of tequila shots. Can’t make this easy for me, can you Granger?” Fred groused, jotting down more notes. She gave him a playful shove and he laughed. “It’s not my fault you have an insatiable sweet tooth when you’re hungover.”

Hermione let her head thud onto the counter, her curls spilling out onto the parchments and over the edge. A little girl approached them as her older brother browsed the aisles.

“Is she okay?” the girl asked, trying to look under the curls to get a peek at Hermione.

“She will be,” Fred assured, rubbing Hermione’s back.

Hermione lifted her head, smiled, and gave the little girl a thumbs up. The girl returned the gesture and skipped off to join her brother. Hermione turned to Fred and he stroked his hand down the side of her face.

“I promise, we’ll fix this. It’s just going to take some patience. I was going to wait until tonight to brew the antidote, but I’ll get started on it after the lunch rush.” He leaned down to kiss her, but she pulled back and shook her head. “I can’t just bugger off in the middle of back to school week.”

Hermione pointed to herself, then to Fred. She then jabbed her finger at Fred again and pointed to the stockroom.

“How are you going to do that when you can’t speak?”

She waved her hand, gesturing around the shop, then tapped the back of her hand.

“Yes, I know, but-”

Hermione stomped her foot, interrupting Fred’s protest, and folded her hands together.

Fred relented and turned to his brother. “Is that okay with you?”

“Mate, I have no clue what’s just transpired between you two,” George answered.

“She wants me to go start on the antidote now and while I’m working on that, she’ll take over for me out here.” Hermione gave him a poke in the ribs and he continued, “And, she says she doesn’t need her voice because she knows this place like the back of her hand and will be fine.”

George looked from Fred to Hermione, and then back again. “You seriously understood all those silly hand signals?”

Hermione stomped her foot and put her hands on her hips.

“She doesn’t think they’re silly,” Fred translated.

“Who am I to argue that?”

“Alright, I’ll get started on it now.” Fred checked his watch and then mentally calculates the hours between the chocolates being done last night and when Hermione had eaten them this morning. “It should take about an hour to brew. Then it will need to set for twelve hours.” Fred continued on, answering Hermione’s bemused look. “With edibles, we usually let it settle for 24 hours. You ate these after only twelve hours. So, I’m figuring you can try the antidote at around eleven tonight. If that doesn’t work, we’ll wait another twelve hours. If that still doesn’t work, it’s back to the drawing board.”

The fury in Hermione’s eyes was terrifying. He didn’t need any hand gestured to know that the antidote needed to be perfect on the first brewing.

“No worries, darling. I know what I’m doing. You’ll be able to tell me off again soon enough.”

He kissed her quickly and set off to the workroom. It was an uneventful hour. The antidote serum brewed perfectly, as he had expected it to. In order to tell the two elixirs apart, Fred mixed the antidote with white chocolate and took it upstairs to set in George’s icebox.

When he returned to the front, George was running the till and Hermione was assisting customers on the floor. At the moment she had several pieces of parchment tucked under her arm, as she held up five fingers and directed a mother and son to the right.

“She made herself signs for some of the denser lot that couldn’t figure out that elaborate code,” George explained as Fred sidled up beside him. “For the most part, she’s gotten everyone what they needed and only one jerk dared to complain.”

“I assume he had to leave empty-handed?”

“After the remark he made, the bloke was lucky to leave with his hands.” George pointed to the short list of names of people that they’d had to ban from the shop over the years. The ink was still shiny on the name ‘Nigel Carrington’. “Been a while since we had to add to that list, but calling an employee a ‘retarded mute’ will do the trick.”

Fred bristled at the remark, his hands instantly clenching and wanting very much to punch something.

“Don’t worry. Min didn’t hear it and the bloke didn’t put up a fight after an overhearing customer and I turned our wands on him.”

“He’s lucky we only take names and not pictures,” Fred muttered, glaring at the newest banned name.

Quick taps on the counter drew Fred’s attention away from the list. Hermione was standing across from him and she looked exhausted. The Pepper-Up potion was wearing off and her night of drinking had caught up to her. There were bags under her eyes, her hair was more frizz than curls, and her attempted smile was waning. Part of Fred was happy that she had accidentally eaten the chocolate because he wasn’t sure how she had planned to make it through her work day.

Despite her exhaustion, Hermione tapped on the counter and held out her hand. Fred laughed and shook his head.

“You’re crazy. You’re about to fall asleep where you stand and you want to balance the books? Go lay down,” Fred said, nodding his head toward the stockroom. Hermione huffed and tapped the counter again, but Fred grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips. “Nap, and then I’ll give you the books.”

Hermione pursed her lips and he knew she wanted to fight, but with no voice and no energy she sighed and let her shoulders slump. Fred smiled, cupped her face in his hands, and leaned over for a kiss.

“Go rest,” he whispered.

With a poorly hidden yawn, Hermione nodded and dragged herself back through the curtain.

“Marry her.”

Fred turned to his brother, surprised at the sudden and very forward comment.

“Crikey, George,” Fred hissed. “Could you say that any louder?” He peeked behind the curtain and was relieved to see Hermione had passed out as soon as she had laid her head down. “Why would you say that?”

“So, you don’t want to marry her?” George questioned.

“I didn’t say that,” Fred said quickly. “Of course I want to, it’s just-”

“Excuse me!” A curly headed boy was holding onto the counter, jumping up and down. “Where are your dungbombs?”

“Aisle four, good sir,” George answered, pointing the boy to the right. He scampered off and George turned back to Fred. “It’s just what?”

Fred closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t the first he had thought about his future with Hermione. Ever since their talk about children, marriage proposals had been rolling around in his mind. He found himself thinking about the right moment, rehearsing what he would say to her, and even lingering at jewelry shop windows. In the end, one terrifying thought stopped him in his tracks- what if she said no?

Figuring he had nothing to lose in that moment, he finally admitted to his twin, “I don’t know if she wants to marry me.”

George stared at him for a full minute before letting out a solitary chuckle. When Fred didn’t laugh George’s eyes widened.

“Oh, sweet Gryffindor’s ghost, you’re serious,” he said, before letting loose with laughter.

“You don’t have to be such a prick,” Fred muttered.

“Oh mate, I’m sorry,” George wheezed, placing a hand on Fred’s shoulder. “I’m not trying to be a prick, but you are so daft sometimes. That woman,” he said, pointing to the curtain, “loves you. I have never seen a pair more in sync then the two of you. No one else would understand all that flapping and tapping she’s been doing.”

Fred ducked his head as he felt his face burn with embarrassment.

“Seriously though.” George clapped a hand on each of Fred’s shoulders and Fred looked up, into the very serious eyes of his twin. “If you ask, she’ll say yes.”

 

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

 

“Okay, if you feel anything odd or painful, you let me know right away,” Fred instructed, pulling a chocolate from the mold.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but nodded in agreement and held out her hand.

“Or maybe we should wait until it’s set for the full twenty-four hours. What do you think, George?” Fred asked, pulling the chocolate away from Hermione.

“I believe I will take a page out of Ang’s book and stay out of this,” George called from the couch, where he had his head lying in Angelina’s lap as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Hermione stomped her foot and made a grabbing motion with her hand. This wasn’t fair! She was tired of not being able to speak and having to rely on absurd hand gestures.

“I’m just looking out for your safety, darling,” Fred cooed, ruffling her hair.

Hermione wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. She succeeded in taking him by surprise and, as she deepened the kiss, she was able to slip the chocolate from his hand. As he pulled back, slightly dazed, she popped the chocolate into her mouth and smiled as her throat was coated in a soothing warmth.

“That wasn’t very fair,” Fred breathed. “Did it work?”

Hermione took a breath and said, “Malted Mutes.”

“What?”

“That’s what you should call these things! Look,” she said, grabbing the mold from Fred. “You have them stamped with your **W** s, for Wizard Wheezes. But flip it around and you get two **M** s. Malted Mutes!” She handed the mold back to him.

Fred arched an eyebrow and rotated the mold in his hands, grinning and shaking his head.

“Nice to hear your voice again, sweetheart,” he chuckled.

George sat up and looked back at them.

“If your girlfriend keeps naming our products, we’re going to have to make her a partner.”

Fred put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I don’t think I could find a better one.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gift for the weekend :)

November 2003

 

“No! I can’t Travis,” Hermione repeated to the head bobbing in her office floo. “I promised Fred I would be home on time tonight. I have plans. It’s my anniversary weekend.”

“So you push your shagging back by ten minutes,”  said Travis Lang, the Deputy Department Head for the Office of Magical Law. “We need another Head’s signature and McClaggen is demanding yours. Please, Hermione, don’t make us drag this circus out any longer.”

Hermione sighed in defeat. Fucking Cormac McClaggen. The man was like a raging case of herpes. You think you’ve finally gotten rid of him, only to find he comes raging back into your life at the most inopportune time.

“Can’t you just owl it to me?” Hermione whined, knowing full well it was useless.

“No. I’ll see you in five,” Travis answered, and his head disappeared before Hermione had a chance to continue her protest.

“Bugger.” 

Hermione scratched a quick note to Fred, letting him know she’ll be home as soon as she rid herself of the plague that was the Head of Magical Games and Sports. After the owl had flown off, she dragged herself to the lift and rode down to level seven. 

Britain was attempting to host the 2010 Quidditch World Cup, with the event being held in Wales this time. Her department had been battling back and forth with Games and Sports for weeks trying to sort out the official bid. The problem was that McClaggen and all his brainwashed subordinates kept trying to sneak in addendums that were blatantly illegal, such as setting up a station that offered dragon rides for the kids.

“Come on, Granger!” Cormac had cried in frustration, as Hermione pushed his fifth revision back across the table. “Potter bested one back in his fourth year. How dangerous can they be?”

Hermione stared at him in disbelief and shook her head. She was pretty certain Troll blood had leaked into his genetics.

“Stop wasting our time with this,” Hermione had replied. “This is supposed to be a simple straightforward task and you’re turning it into a month-long migraine. If you are incapable of constructing this bid yourself, pull the one from the 1998 games and copy that.”

That had been a week ago. Her department had been anxiously awaiting the next revision, as the deadline for bidding submissions were due the following Wednesday.

Hermione swiftly entered the Games and Sports conference room and said a curt hello before sitting down beside Cormac.

“Let me see it,” she said as she held out one hand and adjusted her glasses with the other. 

Cormac passed her a stack of parchments and she was pleased to see that it had been cut down by a considerable amount of pages.

“I see you took my advice on perusing the archives,” Hermione murmured, flipping through the sheets as she speed read through the bid. “Though I’m impressed at how many grammatical mistakes there are for simply copying an existing document,” she remarked as she corrected ‘pich’ to ‘pitch’. “This looks perfect,” she said, mentally adding  _ ‘finally’ _ . She signed her name to the last page and passed it around to the rest of her team. “Send that off to the Federation immediately so it doesn’t look like we waited until the absolute last minute.”

She stood, gave an acknowledging nod to Travis, and started for the door. 

“Hold up, Granger,” Cormac called.

Hermione inwardly groaned and turned back to see him trotting up to her. 

“What? I’m already running late,” she said impatiently.

“Why don’t you ditch Weasley and let me take you out for dinner. I never got to show you a proper good time when we dated,” Cormac said. He attempted a wink, but it turned into a slow blink. Honestly! How the man managed to become a department head was anyone’s guess. Hermione was surprised he managed to put his shoes on the right feet in the morning.

“First, we never dated,” Hermione stated, folding her arms across her chest. “Secondly, if it came down to a life or death decision of having dinner with you, or eating raw fish, in a cave, with an inbred mountain troll, I would happily dine on questionable sushi with the drooling monster.”

“I don’t think you’d find much of a difference between the two,” Travis muttered as he passed.

Hermione forced herself to maintain a straight face as she nodded at Cormac and hurried to catch up to her Deputy Head. She was able to maintain decorum until the second the lift doors closed. Then she allowed herself to laugh and hug Travis.

“Have I told you lately how happy it makes me getting to work with you?”

“That guy’s a toad. Please, tell me you didn’t date him,” Travis said, his eyes full of worry. “I won’t judge you if you did, but--”

“No, seriously! We never dated. I went to a school do with him once purely to make another guy jealous. I spent the entire night avoiding his tentacle-like hands.” Hermione shuddered at the sixth year memory. 

“Okay, that’s an acceptable excuse.”

The lift juddered to a halt and the doors clattered open. A melodic voice let them know they had reached their department level. Hermione wished Travis a good weekend and started for her office. As she turned the corner, she bumped into someone and stumbled backward.

“Oh, sorry dear,” Arthur Weasley said, putting a steadying hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “I was just looking for you.”

“What can I help you with, Mr. Weasley?” Hermione asked, motioning towards her office.

“We’re off the clock now, Min,” Arthur chuckled.

She glanced at her watch and groaned. She was now fifteen minutes late.

“I didn’t need anything though. I was just delivering a few files to Harper and thought I would swing by to say hello and happy anniversary,” Arthur said, leaning against the doorframe of her office. 

“Thank you,” Hermione said, throwing him a grateful smile as she gathered up her things. “Hopefully it’s still happy. I told Fred I’d be home early and now I’m later than my regular time. Bloody McClaggen,” she cursed, chucking a rogue quill into her quill pot. 

“You’re fine. Fred’s a patient lad,” Arthur assured. He crossed the office to give Hermione a hug. “I’ll see you for Sunday dinner.” He kissed the top of her head and left for his own office.

With a final glance, making sure everything was in its place, Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder, tossed some powder into the floo, and stepped through. Seconds later, she was stepping out into her dimly lit flat.

“Fred?” she called, bending down to pull off her shoes. “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart. Fucking Cormac McClaggen decided at five til to go over the World Cup bid and I had to go finally sign off on it.” She pulled off her robes and hung them on the hook by the fireplace. Why was it so dim? And where was Fred? “Can you believe that flobberworm asked me out? I don’t know how anyone in that department can stand working with him.”

Hermione pulled the clip from her hair and shook out her curls. She finally halted her long-winded apology to look around the living room. The dim lighting was caused by no less than one hundred candles burning from every corner. A bottle of champagne, flanked by two flutes, was set on the coffee table. 

Thoughts of trollish colleagues melted away and she slowly spun around, taking it all in. It reminded her of the episode of Friends when Monica and Chandler….her heart instantly leaped into her throat. 

“Fred?” she called again, her voice shaky and squeaky.

The scratch of the record player drew her attention to the bookcase. The song that filled the room was from a Tony Bennett album she had nicked from her father years ago. Harry always teased her when he caught her listening to it, but she didn’t care. The man had a soothing voice.

_ “Someday, when I'm awfully low, _

_ When the world is cold, _

_ I will feel a glow just thinking of you _

_ And the way you look tonight.” _

 

“May I have this dance?” Fred’s voice whispered against her ear.

Hermione turned around and was immediately enveloped in his arms. 

“What are you doing?” she giggled.

“Dancing with a beautiful witch,” he replied.

“Mmm,” she sighed, resting her head against his chest. They silently swayed back and forth, Fred’s steady breathing easing away her stress of the last half hour. “Do you remember the first time you asked me to dance?”

“Vividly,” he answered. “Best kick in the arse my brother ever gave me.” He nuzzled the top of her head and she could feel his smile grow. “You want to know something about that weekend? Something only George knows?”

“Oooh, a secret. Do tell.”

“I was really bothered after you left early for the trip. I thought you were getting back together with Krum.”

Hermione leaned back so she could glance up at him. “Seriously?” He nodded sheepishly and Hermione fell back against his chest, laughing. 

“I’m glad you find my despair amusing,” he said and goosed her backside.

 

_ “With each word your tenderness grows, _

_ Tearing my fears apart _

_ And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, _

_ Touches my foolish heart.” _

 

“For the record, I knew there was something off with you the moment you arrived that weekend,” Hermione insisted. She relaxed back into him and let the silence set in for another minute before saying, “You know, you’re the reason I started seeing Viktor in the first place.”

“How so?”

“Your annoying face was distracting. I had to find other things to focus on.”

“My face is not annoying. It’s gorgeous.” He held her tight and dipped her low.

“And all these years later, still distracting.” Hermione reached up and brushed a piece of fringe from his eyes.

Fred lifted her back up and lightly brushed his lips against hers. She pressed against him, hoping to deepen the kiss, but he just grinned and pulled back. 

“I had myself convinced, for so long, that I wasn’t cut out for relationships. That no one would ever take me seriously. I was good for a night of laughs and that was it. But then you came along and turned my world upside down. I want to hex myself for wasting so much time looking elsewhere when everything I had been searching for was right in front of me the whole time. I hope you know how completely and absolutely, head over heels in love I am with you. And if you don’t, I would very much like to spend the rest of my life showing you.”

“ _ Yes you're lovely, never, ever change _

_ Keep that breathless charm. _

_ Won't you please arrange it? _

_ 'Cause I love you _

_ Just the way you look tonight.” _

 

As the final notes of the song faded away, Fred leaned down and with a breathy whisper that caused the rest of the world to melt away, said “Marry me, Hermione.” With his lips lingering just below her ear, he added, “Please?”

Nuzzling her cheek against his, Hermione drank in the moment. She wanted to remember every detail- the glow of the candlelight, the static from the record player, the light, cedary scent of Fred’s cologne (mingled with the ever-present undertone of blasting powder), and the feel of his body fitting so perfectly against hers. As the warmth of his lips was pulled away, Hermione looked up into his eyes. Into her forever.

Before she could even finish saying the word ‘yes’, his lips crashed against hers and she was vaguely aware of her left hand becoming slightly heavier. 

“I love you,” he breathed, lips still on hers and hands coiling in her hair.

“I love you too,” she said, fumbling her fingers over the buttons of his shirt. Passion trumped her dexterity and she tore it open, sending buttons flying and pinging around the room.

“I should propose more often,” Fred chuckled, while Hermione pulled her sweater off with Seeker-like speed. In his trance of watching her undress, her sudden shove sent him falling onto the couch and made him gasp. It was quickly replaced with a wanting moan as she positioned herself on his lap and swiveled her hips over his. “Don’t you think we should move to the bedroom, love?”

“No time,” Hermione mumbled, struggling with his belt buckle and her lips staking claim to every inch of skin they could find.

“What if unannounced vis--oooooh,” he moaned as she worked her way down his chest and grazed her tongue over his nipple.

“I told everyone that if they set one toe in our flat this weekend, Ginny would dust off her bat-bogey hex.” She tugged off his trousers and tossed them to the side before starting on his pants.

“Yeah, that sounds reasonable,” Fred hummed, relaxing back on the couch and letting Hermione work her magic.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The waning candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Fred was sweaty, yet content, tangled in a blanket with Hermione lying on top of him. He had no idea where their clothes had been flung, but he couldn’t care less. At the moment, Hermione’s fingers were delicately tracing the smile that he didn’t think would ever leave his face. 

“Who helped you?” she asked softly.

“Helped me what?”

Hermione rolled over and tucked herself into the crook of Fred’s ready embrace. 

“Pick out the ring,” she replied, holding up her left hand so that they could admire her newest accessory together. 

Fred had spent weeks sneaking off to various jewelry stores, both muggle and wizard, until one afternoon when he popped into a small, privately owned store in the Birmingham Jewellery Quarter. 

His original intent when he went out that day hadn’t been ring shopping. It had been his turn to travel into the city and pick up the shop’s monthly shipment of unicorn hair from their supplier. Before apparating back to the shop, he had stopped to grab a coffee and the little store had caught his eye. As soon as he saw it, he realized he had finally found  _ the one _ .

A princess cut ruby was flanked by two small diamonds, set in golden vines that twisted around each other to form the band. Up until then, Fred had been looking at various diamonds set in platinum bands, having been assured by many jewelers that that was the current trend in engagement rings. But, as soon as he laid eyes on the ruby ring he knew it was perfect. Hermione was never one to worry about trends and the vines reminded him of the carvings on her wand. 

Without any hesitation, Fred purchased it. The shopkeeper seemed surprised that he hadn’t tried to haggle on the price, but slipped it into a black velvet box and wished him well. He had hidden the ring in a pair of horrid green socks, a Christmas present from Aunt Muriel that he never wore, and then shoved them to the back of the drawer. 

“Nobody helped me,” Fred answered, moving his fingers in lazy circles over her stomach.

“It’s beautiful.” She let her hand fall onto his chest and snuggled into his side. “I’m surprised Ginny was able to keep your secret.”

Fred grinned and said, “I didn’t tell her.”

“Who knows then?”

“No one.” Fred thought for a moment and then corrected, “No, wait. Your dad. I told your dad. I wanted to get his blessing.”

Hermione popped her head up to look at him. Fred just smiled and closed his eyes. He had expected this.

“You actually called Australia to get my father’s permission? What’s the going rate for a wife these days? A coupled shillings and a goat?” she huffed.

Fred sat up and silenced her complaints with a kiss. “You don’t really want to argue with me tonight, do you?” he murmured.

“Of course not, but asking a woman’s father for permission is such a--”

He kissed her again before she could inform him about outdated, patriarchal oppression.

“I didn’t ask for his permission. I asked for his blessing,” Fred explained, pulling her onto his lap. He swept her hair back and kissed the freckles that dotted her shoulders. “I wanted him to know what my intentions were and I wanted to know that he trusted me with his only daughter.” Pulling her close, he gently took her chin in between his thumb and forefinger. “My plan was to marry you no matter what he said, even if he called my mother a hamster and said my father smelt of elderberries. It’d make for some awkward Christmas dinners, but nothing is going to stop me from marrying you.”

Hermione laughed, leaning against him. Fred wrapped his arms around her waist and laid back down, pulling her with him.

“I’m going to regret introducing you to Monty Python, aren’t I?” She sighed and propped her chin on his chest. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“Ugh, you’re worse than Harry with movie quotes,” Hermione groaned.

“It’s your fault.” He started prodding her sides, making her wriggle. “You’re so insistent on giving me this Muggle education. I feel like I’m back in a bloody classroom.”

“Mmm, but my final exams are much more enjoyable,” she quipped.

“That they are,” he agreed, twirling a strand of curls around his finger. “I believe I attain top marks on every single one.”

“Yes, you do,” she assured. 

Fred opened his eyes and was met by her honey gaze. There was a new glimmer in her stare that took him by surprise. He had seen that specific look before, just never on her. He couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle and wonder what bit of mischief was bouncing around in her head. 

“Want to have a little fun at Sunday dinner?” she asked, a cheeky grin spreading across her face. 

Fred lets his hands travel down her back and cup her bare bottom, saying, “Always.”

“How would you like to place a bet on which family member will notice the ring first?”

“Hmm…,” Fred hummed, laying his head back like he was thinking deeply about her proposition. “What are the stakes?”

“You remember that art museum I’ve been talking about, in Kent?”

Fred groaned. “Really? Of all the things you could choose--”

“Yes,” Hermione insisted. “If I win, you have to finally put aside a weekend and go with me.”

“Fine, art museum it is,” Fred conceded. He propped himself up on his elbows and countered, “But, if I win, you have to help George and I test one of our new products. Knowingly this time.”

“Which one?” she asked warily.

“To be decided.” 

Hermione quirked her lips to the side and Fred could tell that she was actually in deep thought about his wager.

“Fine. It’s not like you’ll win anyway.” She suddenly sat up, straddling his stomach. He was vaguely aware of her speaking, but the words faded as he gazed up at her. Bathed in the soft glow of the candlelight, Hermione looked ethereal, with a halo of curls. Fred knew he would never tire of that view.

He reached up and traced the various scars that were scattered on her body. Hermione hated them and the memories they wouldn’t let fade, but Fred admired each one. Whenever she would try to hide them under a sheet or glamour charms, he would tell her that they were a beautiful reminder of how strong she is and why they’re both still alive. Her response was always the same- kiss his cheek and hug the sheet tighter.

Fred let his fingers linger on the mark she hated most; a long, thin, white line that ran down her left forearm. He didn’t know all the details of how she received it, and he didn’t think he honestly wanted to. Hermione never spoke much about that night in Malfoy Manor, and neither did Harry or Ron, but he knew the events still haunted her dreams. 

“....so I think joining the circus and becoming an acrobat is the best decision.”

Fred smiled, running his finger up and down her arm. When he finally looked up, she was staring at him, an expression of faux frustration on her face. 

“You are quite bendy. I think you’d make a fantastic acrobat.”

“Alright, smart arse. What came before that?”

“You think I should be your manager?” Fred guessed.

“Is it too much to ask for my  _ fiance _ to listen to me?” she huffed.

“I do like the sound of that.” He leaned up for a kiss. “I’m sorry. I was distracted by your annoyingly beautiful body. What were you saying?”

“Who do you think will notice the ring first?”

“You’re letting me have the first choice?” Hermione nodded and Fred immediately said, “Mum, of course. No, wait, Ang! She’s good a noticing details. Fleur is pretty observant too though...how many can I pick?”

“How about we each pick two? Lock in your first choice,” she instructed.

Fred actually put some thought into this decision. He ran through the long list of family names, mentally crossing off the ones he knew wouldn’t take any notice if a broomstick burst into flames between their legs.

“Mum,” he finally decided. “She has a sixth sense for these sort of things.”

“A respectable choice,” Hermione acknowledged. “I’m going with Ginny. If she doesn’t notice it first, I might need to rethink our best friend status. 

“Damn, she was going to be my second choice. George is my second choice then. He knew we would end up together before we even figured it out.”

“True…okay, I’ll say Ang. You’re right, she’s good at noticing the little details.”

“You have to play it cool, though,” Fred warned. “You can’t get overly gesticular, trying to catch the girls’ eyes.”

“And you can’t do that twin thing,” Hermione countered.

“What twin thing?”

“I know you two have a secret language and hand signals. It’s not really that secret. I have just about all of it figured out.”

“Oh, do you now? What exactly do you have figured out?”

She had Fred’s full attention now because he and George did have their own way of communicating, without anyone else ever catching on to it. He couldn’t say when it started. It felt like something that had been there from the beginning that just evolved as they grew up. These days it was something he did without even thinking about it most days. The code words and hand gestures were as natural as breathing for them.

Hermione smirked at him and quickly brushed her right thumb across the tip of her nose and Fred knew he knew their code had been hacked. That particular move was their subtle way of letting the other know that a fit lass was nearby.

“How’d you figure that one out?’ he asked with a sigh of defeat.

“You and George had very itchy noses the day Ginny took us to watch their new reserve squad practice.”

“We only ever look and appreciate. Nothing more, I swear.”

She laughed and nodded. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything sneaky and nefarious. I think it’s pretty cute that you two still use your code after all these years. But I’m watching you Weasley and if you use it on Sunday, be prepared for a weekend of art history education.”

“Fine. Shake on it to seal the deal?” He held out his hand to her.

“I had other ideas on how to seal the deal,” she purred.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The following Sunday, Hermione and Fred apparated to the stone wall that separated the house from the orchards. They were purposefully late, making sure everyone else had arrived to make sure their betting odds were even. 

“Remember our rules,” Fred whispered as they briskly strode towards the house. 

Hermione glanced up at him and smirked. “I think I should be the one giving you that reminder.”

When they entered the house was buzzing with activity. Molly, Angelina, and Audrey were scurrying between the kitchen and dining room, putting the finishing touches on place settings as dinner finished cooking.

“Can I help?” Hermione offered, starting towards the kitchen.

“Oh no, dear. Go ahead and relax, we’ve got this,” Molly said, motioning Hermione to the sitting room. “We’re just about finished.”

Ginny passed by, heading for the stairs with James in her arms.

“Need a hand, Gin?” Hermione asked.

“You really don’t want to witness what I’m about to encounter,” Ginny said, scrunching her nose. James stuck out his tongue and blew a wet raspberry.

Hermione followed Fred into the sitting room and was surprised to see Charlie chatting with Bill.

“Oi, haven’t seen your mug in a while,” Fred said, giving his older brother a smack on the shoulder. 

“Aye, Freddy! How are ya, mate?” Charlie jumped up and pulled him into a hug that made Hermione wince. He was a full head taller than Fred and had the breadth of an icebox. If the embrace shattered any bones, though, Fred didn’t notice. He just grinned and gave Charlie another smack.

“Hermione,” Charlie greeted, wrapping his arms around her and smothering her face in his jumper. “Nice to see you’re keeping this git on the straight and narrow.”

Hermione tried to say, “I do my best,” but it came out muffled and she ended up with a mouthful of fluff.

“Sorry, Min.” Charlie gently pulled away and helped smooth out her hair. 

“No worries,” Hermione squeaked, pulling a clump of fluff from her tongue.

“Auntie Min!” 

Hermione looked down and was met with a bouncing Victoire, holding up a new coloring book and her tin of crayons.

“Uncle Tarlie got me a new dwagon colowing book! Colow wiff me!” 

Hermione smiled at the little girl and it hit her how much she was growing up. In another year’s time, those cute mispronunciations, that melted Hermione’s heart, would start fading.

“I would love to color dragons with you,” Hermione answered. She sank down onto the floor, beside Victoire, and accepted her given colors and page. Figuring someone would notice her ring once dinner was started and the commotion had settled, she let herself get lost in her niece’s stories about fairies and dragons, only understanding about half because, like her mother, Victoire flowed from English to French seamlessly and it was difficult to keep up at times. 

“I like your wing, Auntie Min.”

“Hmm?” Hermione looked up and it took a moment for her eyes to refocus from the two-dimensional Welsh Green back to reality. “What’s that sweetie?”

“I like your wing!”

“Oh, thanks,” Hermione said, looking at her picture. “I know it’s supposed to be a green dragon, but I thought his wings would look better blue.”

“No! Not the dwagon!” Victoire giggled. She grabbed Hermione’s hand and pointed, saying, “Your wed wing! Where did you get it?”

It took a second or two for the question to register with Hermione. When her brain finally clicked into place, it took a lot of control not to start laughing.

“Uncle Freddy gave it to me the other night when he asked me to marry him,” Hermione answered.

“Oh.” Victoire glanced at the ring once more and then looked up as Bill was walking back into the room. “Daddy, look! Uncle Fweddy is smart!”

Fred’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he and Hermione turned their attention from one another to Bill, who had frozen mid-sit.

Bill started laughing awkwardly. “What are you talking about, princess? I know Uncle Freddy is smart.”

“Then why did you tell Mama the otha day dat if Fweddy was a smart man he would put a wing on Auntie Min before she weelized she was outta his league?” Victoire asked. 

Hermione couldn’t hold it in anymore. She fell onto her back in a fit of laughter, covering her surely beet red face with her hands. 

“What’s so funny?” Victoire asked innocently.

Hermione rolled over and pushed herself up on her knees. She was wheezing and crying from laughing. She glanced up at Fred and it seemed as though he couldn’t decide if he should be annoyed or amused by his older brother’s comments. Bill was doing everything to avoid Fred and Hermione’s gazes, becoming very vested in a loose thread on his sweater. Poor Victoire sat in the middle of the floor, trying to figure out what had just happened.

“Can’t remember where she puts her damn shoes every day but can repeat word for word a two-week-old conversation,” Bill muttered.

“Mama said you can’t says da bad words,” Victoire scolded. 

“It’s not...you can’t...I...fu…” Bill groaned and hung his head in defeat. 

“Congratulations!” Charlie boomed, breaking the awkwardness and pulling Hermione up into another smothering hug.

“Who are we congratulating?” Ginny asked. She set James on the floor and blew a wisp of hair from her face.

“We’re getting another sister,” Charlie said, releasing Hermione and reaching out to shake Fred’s hand. 

“Oh. Wait, what?!” Ginny cried, grabbing Hermione’s hand and holding it up. “Holy shit, he did!”

“Auntie Gin, you says da bad word!” Victoire gasped.

“When? How? I need details woman!” Ginny demanded, ignoring Victoire’s telling off. 

“What is all the commotion about in there?” Molly called from the kitchen.

“Fred and Hermione got engaged!” Ginny yelled.

There was a gasp and the sound of something shattering and within a second Molly Weasley was pushing her way through the living room, with Audrey and Angelina hot on her heels. Ginny held Hermione’s hand out for her mother to inspect, instantly bring Molly to tears.

“I’m so happy for you two,” Molly wept, wrapping Hermione in a tight embrace. “When is the wedding? And where will it be?”

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “It’s only been two days. We haven’t planned anything yet.”

“Two days!” Ginny cried. “You’ve been engaged for two days and didn’t tell me?!”

Molly let go of Hermione and bustled over to Fred, hugging him tightly.

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told you a year ago. You better have a proper wedding and not pull a runner like your brother,” Molly said sternly.

Fred’s eyes went wide. “Thanks, mum. I love you too.”

“Oh, you know I love you,” Molly sobbed, hugging Fred again.

“Molly? What’s going on?”

Arthur had just come inside from his workshop, with George and Percy at his side. Arthur had a worried look on his face as he watched Molly cry and hug Fred. 

“We’re getting married,” Hermione announced.

“I told you she’d say yes, Freddie!” George whooped, slapping his twin on the back.

After Fred had received numerous hearty thumps and handshakes, and Hermione had been pulled into one hug after another, Molly finally herded them all into the kitchen.

“Let’s go, let’s go,” she called. “The food is getting cold and we have a wedding to plan!”

Fred wrapped his arm around Hermione’s waist and started guiding Hermione towards the kitchen. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Did you really think I would say no?” she said softly.

“Of course not!” Fred scoffed. Hermione arched an eyebrow and he sighed. “The thought may have crossed my mind.”

Hermione grinned and said, “I love you, Fred Weasley.”

“I love you, Hermione Granger.”

He leaned down and kissed her, but they were quickly interrupted by Ginny.

“If you’re not in here within the next thirty seconds, Mum will have planned your entire wedding. She’s already talking table settings,” Ginny hissed.

“Oh Merlin, help me…” Hermione moaned.

The table was laden with an assortment of dishes, emitting so many delicious smells, Hermione’s stomach audibly growled as she sat down, causing Fred to snicker. She started dishing roast chicken, broccoli, roast potatoes, and homemade bread onto her plate. She was just about to dig into her chicken when Molly began the wedding talk.

“So, what day were you thinking for the big day?” she asked.

“Umm, I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it,” Hermione said, taking a bite.

“Bollocks,” George protested, winking at Hermione. “Shall I remind you about what you said to me in Egypt?”

“He’s got a point,” Fred said through a mouthful of roast potatoes.

“Charming,” Hermione said with a sigh. “What I mean is that  _ we _ haven’t talked about any specifics,” she explained, motioning between her and Fred. “He asked me to marry him, I said yes. That’s as far as our planning has gone.”

Molly gave her an endearing smile and reached over to pat her hand. “What do you envision for the day, dear?”

“Well,” Hermione said slowly, thinking on it for a moment. “I don’t want anything big or over the top. Mainly just a gathering of all the family and our close friends, and Ginny by my side as Maid of Honor.”

“Aww,” Ginny cooed, clasping her hands together. “Of course I’ll be your Maid of Honor!”

“What if we had it here?” Fred suggested. 

“The orchard in the spring would be a gorgeous backdrop,” Molly said. Hermione could tell she was trying to keep her tone calm, but she knew Molly was practically bursting at the thought of hosting another of her children’s nuptials at The Burrow.

“That does sound lovely,” Hermione agreed.

Molly’s smile stretched across her entire face as she clapped excitedly.

“After the table is cleared, I’ll get the calendar down and we’ll look at dates.”

Once everyone had had seconds of chocolate custard, the men decided on an impromptu game of night Quidditch. As they scurried about, putting on jackets and hats, Hermione grabbed Fred’s hand. 

“Anything in April or May I should plan around?” she asked.

“Nope. Just give me a day and I’ll be here.” He kissed her nose and pulled his maroon cap down over his ears.

By the end of the evening, they had set the date for May fifteenth. Ginny would be her Maid of Honor, Victoire would be the flower girl, and James would be the ring bearer. When she left the table to go get some fresh air, Molly had started writing out a guest list.

Outside, the weather was bitter and cold. When she squinted, Hermione could make out the glowing specks that were the Quaffle and Bludgers flying around in the distance. They had been playing for over an hour now and she wasn’t sure how they weren’t all frozen solid. Just the thought of speeding through the icy air on a broomstick made her pull her coat tighter.

Hermione leaned against the stone wall and watched the small pinpricks of light bounce around the stars. Every now and then a victorious cheer would echo across the field. It was another fifteen minutes before the glow was extinguished and the whooshing of broomsticks came closer and closer. 

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing,” Fred puffed, jogging over to Hermione’s side.

“Needed some fresh air,” she replied. He reached up to tuck a lock of hair back in his hat and Hermione grabbed his hands. “Where are your gloves you nutter?” she scolded, cupping his bare hands in her gloved ones.

“I can’t hold onto the bat as well when I have them on,” Fred explained. 

“You won’t be able to hold one at all if you lose your fingers to frostbite.” She lifted his hands to her lips and kissed his fingertips.

“Bah, they’re fine. Just a little chilly.” He moved behind Hermione, wrapping his arms around her and then tucked his hands into her coat pockets. “There, much better.”

Hermione smiled as she rested her head back, against Fred’s chest. They stood in content quiet, watching the clouds glide past the moon. Both were surprised when a light flurry of snowflakes started to fall.

“Winter has decided to come early this year,” Hermione commented, brushing a flake from her eyelash. 

“Mother Nature seems to be looking forward to spring just as much as I am,” Fred whispered in her ear. 

Hermione turned around and smiled up at him. “Keep May fifteenth open.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said, giving one of her curls a gentle tug. “So, since neither of us guessed correctly, does that mean we both win the bet?”

“No, darling. I’m afraid it means we’ve both lost. I’ll let you know what weekend we’ll be heading to Kent.”

“Then I shall consult with my partner in crime and let  _ you _ know what new ideas need testing.” Fred pulled Hermione flush against him and smiled down at her. “I promise you’ll keep your voice this time.”

Hermione gazed up at him as soft flakes fell upon his cheeks and quickly melted. The reality of the day's activities finally hit her and she couldn't help but let her grin widen. 

“We’re getting married,” she said in awe. 

He brought his cold, red nose down to touch hers. 

“We’re getting married,” he echoed.


	21. Chapter 21

December 2003

 

“I still don’t see why George can’t come along,” Fred muttered petulantly as he laced up his trainers.

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. She finished securing her hair into a single plait and sat down on the bed beside him.

“Because my dad wants to spend the day with _you_ ,” Hermione said for the hundredth time that morning. She summoned her shoes and slipped them on. “Why are you so nervous about this? My dad likes you.”

“I’ve just been getting this weird vibe and I don’t quite know how to explain it.”

Hermione’s parents had come to England for the Christmas and New Year’s holidays. Since their arrival, she and Fred had spent a lot of time with them, but always together or with a group of Weasleys. Today, Boxing Day, Hermione was seizing the opportunity of having her mum around and, along with Molly, Ginny, Fleur, and Victoire, they were going to Diagon Alley to pick out a wedding dress.

“He’s just getting to know you, sweetheart,” she assured, running a hand through his hair. He leaned into her touch and she smiled. “Up until now, he hasn’t really had the chance to interact with you much. Now that you’re going to be part of the family he’s trying to bond a bit.”

“Does his idea of bonding include tossing me off a cliff and making it look like an accident?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she said kissing his head and standing up. “And remember, you’re a wizard. If he throws you off a cliff, the spell is _Arresto Momentum_.”

“Thanks for the support, love,” Fred sighed.

Hermione was about to respond but a knock on the door interrupted her.

“They’re here.” She kissed the top of his head again and went to answer the door.

Her parents were waiting on the other side. Her mother’s smile hadn’t left her face since Hermione had met her at the airport a week ago. She was so excited to plan the wedding. The speed that she and Molly had spoken during Christmas dinner was mind-boggling. The two women were clearly in their element. A day of trying on wedding dresses with them was bound to be exhausting.

“Hello, darling!” Margaret Granger greeted, pulling her daughter in for a hug. “I’m so excited to find you a dress! Where’s Fred?” she asked, looking over Hermione’s shoulder.

“Yes, where is your young man?” Jonathan Granger asked, stepping into the flat behind his wife. He set a rucksack on the floor, by his feet.

“He’s just finishing getting ready,” Hermione assured, kissing her father’s cheek. “What do you have planned for the day?”

“It’s a surprise,” Jonathan answered gruffly.

“Dad, you will be nice, won’t you?” Hermione asked in a low voice, locking her father’s eyes with hers.

“Don’t worry, Mimi. We’re going to get along just fine.”

“Oh, Circe,” Hermione moaned at the mention of her childhood nickname. She covered her face and said urgently, “Please, don’t let anyone else hear you call me that. They’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“Too late, darling,” Fred called from the hall. A second later he appeared in the living room with a smirk. “Already heard it.” He grabbed his jacket from the hook by the fireplace and shrugged it on. “I promise I won’t tell anyone though. Hello, Doctor Granger,” he said, nodding to Jonathan, “and Doctor Granger,” he continued, with a nod at Margaret.

“Please, Fred, call us John and Maggie,” Margaret insisted.

Fred was leaning down to give Hermione a kiss when Jonathan cleared his throat, causing Fred to jump back a meter and stand up straight.

“You two share a room?” Jonathan questioned, his eyes drilling into Fred’s mortified face.

“Dad!” Hermione cried, at the same time her mother scolded, “Now, really John!”

“Don’t mind him, dear,” Margaret said, patting Fred’s arm. “He has no room to judge. The things we got up to when we were dating weren’t all that innocent either.”

“Mum!”

Hermione looked at her mother and father in disbelief. She was pretty certain her face was the same shade of crimson that Fred’s was currently sporting.

“I think this is a perfect place to end this conversation,” Hermione finally said. She grabbed her coat and purse and turned to Fred. “It will be fine,” she said softly, pulling on her gloves. “Just remember, _Arresto Momentum_.”

Fred finally smiled at her and nodded. He leaned down to her ear and whispered, “I really want to kiss you goodbye, but I’m slightly terrified to at the moment.”

Hermione took his face in her hands and kissed his lips. “I love you. Have fun.”

“I’ll give it a go,” Fred sighed.

A horn beeped outside and Hermione patted his hand. “That’s the taxi. We’ll see you tonight.” She gave his cheek one last kiss and followed her mother out the door and down to the street.

“Where to, ladies?” the driver asked.

“Charing Cross Road, please,” Hermione said, clicking her belt into place. She leaned her head back and sighed, “It’s nice being driven somewhere for a change.” Letting her head loll to the side, she looked at her mum and asked, “Where’s Dad taking Fred? He isn’t planning on going down to Dover, is he?”

“Dover? No, I don’t believe so,” Margaret answered. “I honestly don’t know, dear. He wouldn’t even tell me this morning.”

“He likes Fred, right?”

“Of course! He’s a wonderful man and we’re so happy for you two,” her mum gushed, patting her hand.

“I just never saw him act like that before. I hope he doesn’t terrify Fred and send him running for the hills.”

Margaret let out a cackle. “Oh, honey! After spending time with the Weasley family, I’m betting it’ll take much more than your father to scare that boy. He just wants to get to know Fred better.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Fred smiled as Hermione and her mum left the flat. He looked over at Jonathan Granger, forcing his smile to remain in place. It was a bit of a feat.

Of the two doctors, Hermione’s looks most favored her mother. The chestnut curls, a small, yet commanding stature, and her adorable upturned nose all mirrored Maggie Granger. The eyes, though... Fred had seen the stare currently locked on him several times before from his fiance when he had not been in her good graces.

It wasn’t often that Fred felt awkward and intimidated around people, but, left alone with Jonathan and his appraising gaze, he felt as though he was having a minor panic attack. His heart was beating so hard and erratic, he wouldn’t be surprised if it burst from his chest right into Jonathan’s waiting hands.

Jonathan picked up his rucksack, slung it over his shoulder and motioned to Fred. “That floo thing of yours go to Birmingham?”

“Yes, sir. Where to in Birmingham?” Fred asked, summoning his coat.

“As close as we can get to the Bordesley District,” he answered, striding to the fireplace.

“When I go in for supplies, I usually apparate,” Fred thought aloud. It was frowned up to bring Muggles on side-along apparition though. He frantically searched his memory of the Floo Network. “I think there’s a wizarding section in the rail station.”

“Perfect, let’s go,” Jonathan instructed.

Fred quickly nodded and tossed some powder into the fireplace and called out, “Bordesley Railway Station,” then motioned for Jonathan to step through. Once the green flames swallowed him up, Fred paused for a few moments, pumping up his courage, before following.

Before that week, Fred had had very few personal interactions with Hermione’s parents and all of those mainly took place during their Hogwarts days, shopping in Diagon Alley. Post-war, Hermione had been able to restore her parents’ memories, but by that time Margaret and Jonathan had established a successful dentistry practice in Australia and chose to continue living there, which meant that their visits to England were few and far between and Fred had been left to get to know them through weekly telephone calls. When Fred had talked to Jonathan about his proposal plans, the man had been happy to give his blessing and welcome him to the family. Fred was now starting to think that maybe he had dreamed that entire conversation...

When Fred stepped into the station, he couldn’t see Jonathan anywhere. As he frantically looked around, a thick Brummie accent called out to him.

“Oy! You with that big Muggle that just come through?”

“Yeah, did you see where he went?”

“Aye, he headed straight through the barrier, to the ticket counter.”

“Thanks!”

Fred hurried through to the Muggle section and found Jonathan walking away from the ticket counter.

“Hold on to these for a second,” Jonathan said, passing the tickets to Fred. Fred hesitantly took them and watched as Jonathan opened up his pack and started pulling out blue scarves and hats. “Here ya go,” he said, passing Fred a set.

Fred unfolded the scarf and puzzled over the letters B.C.F.C. and what appeared to be a picture of the Earth above a Muggle football. The knitted hat had a similar picture, but with BIRMINGHAM on the front.

“What are these for?” Fred asked. He followed Jonathan’s lead and pulled on the hat, then wrapped the scarf around his neck.

“For watching the footie. Here’s our train.” Jonathan motioned to the carriages that were screeching to a halt.

They had to travel through three carriages before finding two seats together. Once they had settled in, Fred looked around at the other Muggles and saw that they were all wearing similar blue and white accessories. A few men had their faces painted half blue and half white. Despite the cold weather, several women were clad in tight, revealing shirts, with B.C.F.C embroidered across the chest.

As quietly as possible, so as not to draw attention to his cluelessness, Fred asked, “Are we going to an actual football match?”

“We are indeed. The Blues are going up against Manchester City. Should be a cracking match,” Jonathan answered, a smile spreading across his face for the first time that day. “You ever been to one?”

“No, George and I have talked about going, but have never got around to actually buying tickets. Cor, he’s gonna be right jealous when I tell him about it tonight.” Fred grinned and leaned back in his seat, finally starting to feel comfortable with his future father-in-law.

“Sorry for making you sweat a bit back there,” Jonathan said, giving Fred a nudge and grinning. “Hermione’s my only child. It’s the only chance I’ll get to play the scary, overprotective father.” His grin suddenly disappeared and his eyes narrowed on Fred. “It will be the _only_ time, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Fred answered quickly, throwing up in hands in defense. “I’d rather chuck myself off the astronomy tower than do anything to hurt Min!”

Jonathan chuckled and clapped Fred on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Freddy. Hermione is crazy for ya and she’s one of the best judges of character I know. Maggie and I are happy to have you in the family.”

“Thank you, Doctor Granger.”

“Fred, are we in the middle of a dental exam right now?”

“I don’t believe so, sir, but then again I’m not entirely sure what a dental exam is.”

Jonathan guffawed loudly and shook his head. “Unless I’m pulling one of your teeth, please, call me John.”

“Okay, John,” Fred agreed.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

“I’ve forgotten how amazing this place is,” Margaret said in awe, as she and Hermione passed the storefronts of Diagon Alley. “Can we stop by the boys’ shop afterward? We’ve been here a week and I still haven’t seen it.”

“Of course,” Hermione answered, slowing her pace as they approached their destination. “It’ll probably be quite crowded with kids clamoring to spend their Christmas money, but you’ll get the full effect of the shop.”

Hermione had felt horrible for George when Fred had told him he wouldn't be there for Boxing Day. The poor man was going a bit mental with the busy holiday season in full swing and his very pregnant wife's due date fast approaching. He was handling it better than most would, though, and Angelina had taken a page from Ginny's pregnancy and happily helped out by taking up the position behind the till. It helped a lot that they had broken down that year and hired some part-time, seasonal help.

The two women stopped outside the door of a store called The Wedded Witch, a still relatively new shop in Diagon Alley. They specialized in both traditional wedding robes, but also Muggle wedding dresses.

Several weeks earlier, during the usual Weasley Sunday dinner, Molly had procured her wedding robes from the attic and told Hermione that she was more than welcome to wear them as her ‘something borrowed’. Fred had earned himself a smack by commenting that the robes could also double as her ‘something old’.

Hermione could see the appeal of the robes decades ago, but it was far from the style she had in mind and politely declined the offer. They reminded her too much of Ron’s dress robes from the Yule Ball, and just the thought of the high lace collar had made her neck itch and sweat.

“Oh, this looks lovely,” Margaret said, looking up at the dress in the front window. “You would look beautiful in this one, darling.”

Hermione cringed at the yards of lace and tulle flowing off the dress, and the glittering gems adorning the bodice.

“I think I would like something a little more simple,” Hermione said gently, opening the door and ushering her mother through.

The rest of their group was already there. Molly and Ginny were perusing the various gowns and robes on display, while Fleur shooed Victoire out from under the dresses being modeled by mannequins. As Hermione and her mother stepped further into the shop a chirpy, middle-aged woman with dirty blonde hair bustled around the corner to greet them.

“Hello! You must be Miss Granger, our bride-to-be! My name is Hilda and I’ll be helping you choose your perfect dress today!”

“Nice to meet you, Hilda. Please call me Hermione,” Hermione said, reaching out to shake Hilda’s hand. “This is my mother, Margaret.”

“Wonderful,” Hilda said, clapping her hands together in excitement. “I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting the others here, so let’s get right down to business, shall we?” She raised her wand and with a swish, a tray of glasses, filled with white wine, floated in from the back room. Each of them took a glass and Hilda motioned for them to take a seat on the oversized couch that was situated in front of the changing room. “First thing we need to do is cut our choices in half. Are you looking for a dress or robes for your big day, dear?”

“I know robes tend to be the wizarding tradition,” Hermione started, smiling at Molly, “but ever since I was little I always imagined a beautiful, white, wedding gown.”

“Perfect,” Hilda said, jotting down notes on her parchment. She flicked her wand and the racks of wedding gowns glided forward, while the racks with robes rolled back behind purple, velvet curtains. “Now, I know each bride has her own personal vision, but I encourage all of my customers to try on several different cuts and styles. Not every dress looks the same on every woman, of course. So, if you’re comfortable with it, Hermione, I would like you to head to the changing room and we’ll pick out a few to start getting an idea of what you like and don’t.”

“Okay,” Hermione agreed. She took her glass of wine and made her way the large square room hidden behind a black curtain. Setting her glass aside, she stripped down to her bra and knickers. It wasn’t long before Hilda joined her, with five dresses floating in her wake.

“Your family is having a lot of fun picking out gowns for you,” she laughed, as Hermione stepped into the first dress.

She was correct to assume that this experience was going to be exhausting. Just when Hermione got through trying on one set of gowns, someone was shoving another set into her changing room. Every few minutes she would emerge from the room to oohs and ahhs as she made her way to the pedestal in front of the three-way mirror.

“Oh, sweetheart!” her mother gushed, fluffing out the puffy skirt of an elaborate ball gown style dress. “You look beautiful in this one!”

Hermione smiled. Margaret had said this about every dress she tried on.

“It’s nice, but it’s just too much,” Hermione said, swishing from side to side, attempting to move about underneath all the fabric. “No more ball gowns, please. I don’t want to spend my wedding day hauling around five stones of fabric.”

She shuffled back into the changing room and couldn’t help but groan as she shed that dress and started pulling on the next one handed to her. She wasn’t paying much attention to the dress until she felt how tight it was as she pulled it down, over her hips. Glancing down, she saw the dress was akin to spandex, hugging every bit of skin on her body, with a slit running the whole way up her legs, stopping just short of her bum. The top didn’t leave much to the imagination either.

“Ginny!” Hermione cried out. “I know you picked this one! Are you out of your mind? I can’t wear this in front of all my friends and family.”

“You said you wanted something non-frilly and simple,” Ginny called back. “Come out so we can see it!”

“Absolutely not!”

Hermione needed the assistance of Hilda to peel the dress off and back over her head. Once it was off, she collapsed against the wall, blowing curls out of her face.

“That’s it,” she huffed. “I don’t think I can handle anymore.”

“Hermione?” Fleur’s melodic voice called from the other side of the curtain. “I found one more that I think would be nice on you.”

She passed the dress to Hilda, who helped Hermione step into it and zipped up the back.

“Oh my,” Hilda whispered, smoothing out the train. “Go have a look!” she urged excitedly.

Hermione immediately liked that she could easily walk in this gown and had no trouble stepping up, onto the pedestal. As soon as she saw her reflection, Hermione knew that this would be the dress she’d be leaving with.

It was an ivory, off-the-shoulder, mermaid style satin gown. An ivory lace overlay, adorned with appliques and beads, gave the dress amazing dimension and ran all the way to the floor, creating a beautiful train that was just the perfect length for Hermione not to trip over.

“Min, if you don’t choose this one immediately, you’re insane,” Ginny whispered as she slowly walked around Hermione. “You look absolutely stunning and will leave Fred completely gobsmacked.”

Hermione turned to look at Margaret and Molly. “What do you think?” she asked.

“It’s the one,” Margaret said, trying to hold back a sob as tears ran down her cheeks.

“Oh, mum, please don’t cry,” Hermione said, rushing over to hug her mother.

“I can’t help it. You look so beautiful and all grown up!” she cried. “I feel you went from my little girl to this amazing woman in the blink of an eye!”

“No matter how many children you have, this moment doesn’t get any easier,” Molly choked, cupping her hand over her mouth.

Hermione smiled, waved her over, and wrapped an arm around her second mother.

“Hug!” Victoire squealed and latched onto Hermione’s leg.

Once the mothers pulled themselves together, Hermione went with Hilda to let her do some measuring and quick alterations before sending them all on their way.

“Don’t hesitate to come back if you need any other alterations done closer to the day of,” Hilda insisted as they filed out of the store. “Just send me an owl and we’ll set an appointment!”

They all called out, “Thank you!” several times as they pushed out onto the busy Diagon Alley streets. It had started snowing and the cobbled walks and building were already coated with a fresh coating of flakes.

Despite Victoire’s protests, Fleur said goodbye and apparated to Shell Cottage so she could relieve Bill of baby duty and put Victoire down for a nap. The rest proceeded to slip and slide their way to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

“You found a dress!” Angelina shouted when they walked in.

“Yes,” Hermione breathed, pulling her hat off and performing a quick drying spell on her and her mother. Not waiting for Hermione, Margaret pushed into the crowd and started making her way up and down the aisles, studying all of the twins’ products. Molly followed along with her, so Hermione and Ginny maneuvered their way through the crowd to the counter. “It was a long process, but we finally found _the_ dress.”

“I can’t wait to see it tonight!” Angelina said, handing change to one customer and then starting to ring up the next.

“Why don’t you show us now?” George asked, sneaking up behind Hermione and trying to open the dress bag. Ginny gave his hand a swift slap and Hermione pulled the dress closer to her chest. “Ow! What was that for?”

“You don’t get to see it,” Ginny informed.

“Why? I’m not the one marrying her. It’s not bad luck for the brother of the groom to see the dress.”

“Because you’ll end up telling Fred all about it. You can wait until May with everyone else,” Hermione said.

“You can tell him all about the dress _I_ had picked out for her,” Ginny said with an evil smile.

“Gin, that wasn’t a dress. That was lingerie.”

“Now I am intrigued. Tell me more about that one,” George said, leaning against the counter and looking at Hermione expectantly.

“Don’t worry, Min. I’ll beat him for you later,” Angelina said.

“Yeah, she will,” George said with a wink. He scurried off before Hermione or his sister could slap him.

“This place is amazing,” Margaret said, walking up and taking George’s place. “I can’t believe they created all of this stuff by themselves.”

“They had some outside help on a few things,” Hermione muttered, but her mother paid no attention.

“You must be so proud, Molly,” Margaret said, smiling at Molly.

“I can’t say Arthur and I were entirely pleased in the beginning, but they’ve certainly put all their years of mischief to good use.”

“Remember when you tried to put them in detention for testing products on first years, Min?” Ginny laughed.

“I remember,” George said as he headed back to the stockroom. “Detention never scared us, though.”

“My memory’s a bit fuzzy, Georgie,” Hermione said, leaning on the counter and fixing her eyes on George. “What was it that did scare you?”

George’s eyes narrowed at Hermione and he chanced a quick glance at his mum. “Just you wait, Granger. Fred and I haven’t chosen what product we’re going to test on _you_ yet.”

“You help test their stuff, Hermione?” Margaret asked, with genuine curiosity.

“I don’t know if ‘help’ is quite the right word,” Hermione said slowly, matching George’s half-smile.

“Well, whatever you want to call it, I’m so glad I finally got to experience the shop. You young men are very clever,” Margaret said, patting George’s cheek.

“That’s the consensus of all the beautiful women,” George replied with a wink, before disappearing behind the stockroom curtain.

“That man is shameless,” Angelina muttered.

Ginny decided to stay and help at the shop for the final few hours, so Hermione, Margaret, and Molly flooed back to The Burrow to start prepping for dinner.

When they arrived, Arthur had James bundled up and was pulling him around the back garden on a wooden sledge. There wasn’t really much to do in the way of dinner preparations. They were mainly having Christmas dinner leftovers, so they set aside some fresh vegetables to cook and then ended up making some cookies while finalizing the wedding guest list.

As Molly was pulling a tray of sugar cookies from the oven, the back door opened and a chilling gust of wind blew through, followed by Arthur and James.

“Mih! Mih!” James squealed, holding his arms out towards Hermione.

Hermione smiled at the rosy-cheeked little boy. He was growing so fast and his babbles had started to take on meaning. Mama was his favorite, of course, but there was also ‘Mih’ for Min and ‘Ay Ay’ for mémé in his current vocabulary. James had yet to take any independent steps, but holding onto the furniture the kid could zoom around a room in a flash.

“Let’s get you warmed up, little one,” Hermione cooed, snuggling James tightly as she made her way to the living room.

As soon as she got his last sock on, James rolled over and crawled away. He quickly returned with Harry’s Chocolate Frog card that Hermione had charmed for him over the summer. Since a few teeth had popped through, James had stopped chewing and drooling on it as much and picture Harry had started staying in frame longer. He’d pull silly faces until James got over excited and started smacking the card on the floor or table in glee. That usually led to picture Harry disappearing for a few hours.

“Da!” James said, holding the card above his head. “Da!”

“Da?” Hermione repeated in surprise.

“Da!” James held the card out to Hermione.

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s your daddy. Mama is going to be so excited when she hears that.”

“Mama?” James said, looking at the fireplace.

“Soon,” Hermione laughed. She scooped James up and carried him into the kitchen. Just as she was securing him in his highchair, a familiar chant from outside drew her attention. She let out a soft chuckle and looked over at her mum, who wore the same amused look.

“We really should have known,” Margaret sighed, shaking her head.

Hermione hurried outside and the figures of Fred and her father were visible coming up the drive, singing very loudly and horribly offkey.

“As we journey on,  
We will sing this song,  
For the boys in royal blue,  
We’re often partisan,   
We will journey on,  
Keep right on to the end of the road,  
Keep right on to the end.”

It was a song that Hermione heard every week, when her father’s favorite football team, Birmingham City, played. Every now and then, Jonathan would be able to talk Hermione into attending a match with him and she’d inevitably sing along with the rest of the drunken fans. It had been years since she last heard it, but hearing the words now instantly conjured memories of stale lager and bitter disappointment for her dad’s beloved Blues.

Hermione smiled as they drew closer and she could see their matching blue hats and scarves. She didn’t even have to ask how the match went. It was obvious Birmingham had secured a win and her father had treated Fred to a traditional pub after party to throw back some pints and rehash the game.

“Hello, darling,” Jonathan greeted, wrapping Hermione in a hug.

“Hi.” She kissed her father’s cheek and asked, “I take it the match went well?”

“Brilliant! Kenna tied it in the eighty-first minute and then Forssell buried it in the eighty-seventh for the win.” Jonathan gave Fred’s shoulder a nudge and continued, “This lad fit right in. Would’ve never guessed it was the first match he ever saw. Your mother inside?”

“Yup, dinner should be just about ready.”

“Smashing.” He kissed the top of Hermione’s head and strode into the house.

Hermione turned to Fred, whose cheeks were as rosy as James, but for completely different reasons.

“Well, look at you. All Muggled up, half sozzled, and not tossed off a cliff,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“I honestly just had the best day with your dad. How come you never told me how fun football was?” Fred said in disbelief.

“All these years you’ve known me, have I ever seemed the sporty type?”

“True. I definitely have to get tickets for me and George to go to a match. After the baby is born, that is.” Fred took a step and wobbled slightly, causing Hermione to laugh and clutch him tighter.

“Let’s go get some food in you before your mother takes notice of your drunken state.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

February 2004

_Aunt Muriel is dying, again. Bill came and got the girls and George took the boys to the shop with him and Fred. I’ll hopefully only be gone a few days, but here are the rest of the items that need to be finalized for the wedding. See you soon!_

_xxx_

_Molly_

Hermione sank back into her office chair and looked at everything that was spread across her desk. Wedding invitations, pictures of flower arrangements and cakes, three rings of color swatches, and a large chilled box of cake samples.

She had tried looking through all of the samples, but after several minutes the colors and flowers all seemed to blend together. The temptation was strong to just close her eyes and choose it all at random, no matter how well the choices went together.

Hermione looked at the clock. Technically, she still had an hour left to the work day, but she had mentally checked out long ago. She waved her wand over her desk and the wedding items stacked themselves onto a precarious pile. Hermione locked up her office, carefully picked up the pile, and made her way through the floo, straight to George and Angelina’s apartment.

The sight that greeted her, down in the shop, was one of the most adorable things that she had ever seen. Fred was behind the till with James strapped to his back. George was helping customers on the floor, with new baby Rory strapped to his chest. Rory William, barely a month old, was fast asleep in the baby carrier. James, now a full a year old, was happily babbling at customers while smacking Fred upside the head and grabbing fistfuls of hair.

Hermione slid behind the counter, and set down her stack of wedding supplies, as Fred finished up with his final customer of the moment.

“Mih!” James squealed, slapping the top of Fred’s head excitedly.

Hermione smiled up at him and gave his cheek a gentle pinch. When she turned to Fred, her smile faltered.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sweeping a stray lock of hair from her face.

“You wanna go to Vegas?” Hermione asked suddenly.

“What?”

“How about Niagara Falls? Or Fiji! Let’s go to Fiji.”

“Love, I will take you wherever your heart desires. Would you like to first tell me why you have this spontaneous need to travel the world?”

Hermione sighed and shoved the wedding stack towards him. “I don’t want to do this,” she whined. She let her head drop into her hands and muttered, “George was the smartest of us all…”

“I’m sorry, Miss Granger. Could you repeat that please?”

Hermione looked up into George’s smug face. She pursed her lips, then said, “You and Ang did the smart thing. You eloped and avoided all of this planning nightmare.”

“Here, you take Jamie, boy,” Fred said, turning around, “and let me have a look at all of this.”

“You want to coordinate the colors and flowers and seating charts and cake designs?” Hermione warily asked as she unstrapped James from Fred’s back.

“Sure. You think this shop designed itself?” Fred answered, pulling the samples and pictures to him. “Plus, at the end of it all, we get to eat cake.”

“Count me in,” George said, settling onto the stool beside his brother. “Hand me the guest list, Freddie. I’ll start mocking up a seating chart. The only person you really have to be strategic with it Auntie Muriel.”

“If she lives that long,” Hermione said, letting out a morose chuckle.

George waved her comment off. “That old bat is gonna outlive us all.”

Hermione shook her head and set James down. He started toddling away and Hermione followed, letting the twins alone to do their thing.

James slowly walked up and down each aisle, poking his little fingers at the various items, but showing incredible restraint at not pulling everything off the shelves. As he got to the front of the store, his attention was diverted to the front windows. With quick steps, James made his way to the windows on the left and started slapping the glass. His excited squeals garnered the attention of the blackbirds pecking around the puddles of melting snow, but they quickly went back to foraging and preening.

When the allure of the birds waned, James started back up an aisle, but this time showed a new air of confidence. He grabbed boxes and jars off the shelves with lightning speed. Just as Hermione was retrieving one thing and putting it back in its place, James was giggling and pulling something else down. In his haste to escape Hermione he tried to break out in a run, but promptly wobbled and fell down on his diaper-clad bum. Tears immediately started flowing, but Hermione was sure they were due more to disappointment and not pain.

“Aww, it’s okay buddy,” Hermione soothed. She picked James up and his crying stopped at once. “Let’s see what you were trying to nick, Mister Potter.”

Hermione gently tried to pry the object from James’ hands. When he tried to pull it back, Hermione ended up on the receiving end of a Boxing Telescope. She yelped in pain, causing James to start crying again.

“Min? What’s wrong?” Fred called out.

“I’m fine,” she assured. Grabbing a fresh jar of bruise paste, she bounced a whimpering James on her hip and made her way back to the counter.

“What hap..” Fred trailed off as he looked up and caught sight of Hermione’s swollen eye. “Oooh, shit.” He reached over and took James, who was still holding onto the telescope.

“I don’t understand how those are one of your best selling products,” Hermione groused, scooping a dollop of yellow paste from the jar and dabbing it around her eye.

“We like to think of them as a friendship test,” George said, not looking up from the seating chart parchment. “If you give one of them to your friend and they’re still your friend afterward, you know they really like you.”

“Then you two should never doubt how much I love you both.” Hermione wiped the excess goo from her finger onto George’s sleeve.

“Tell me what you think about this,” Fred said, laying out his chosen samples in front of her.

“Oh,” Hermione said, surprised by his decisions.

“Is that a good ‘oh’ or an ‘I can’t believe I’m marrying this fool- oh’?”

She laughed and shook her head. “It’s a pleasantly surprised, oh.”

Fred had gone with a deep red color theme and forgone the lavish bouquets of lilies and orchids, instead opting for red and white roses. The cake was four layers, with a cascade of red roses winding down and around. His invitation design was a bit bolder, with the deep red as the background and white script announcing the date of their impending nuptials.

“It’s very simple and elegant. I love it,” Hermione insisted, running her fingers over their names on the invitation.

“Mum included a packet of a bunch of cake toppers, but I wasn’t sure if we wanted one or not,” Fred said, showing her the booklet. “I think the tiny bride and groom figurines are too cheesy.” Hermione nodded in agreement, watching a cliched groom figure struggling against the bride’s grip on his collar. “I thought maybe just a large W would be nice, but I wasn’t sure if you were planning on taking the Weasley name. I remembered you telling Viktor, in my jealous haze, that you wanted to keep the name Granger, so maybe we can go with G-W or we could just top it with F and H. Or we could--”

Hermione pressed her fingertips to his lips, silencing his rambling. She quickly kissed him and said, “I love you.”

Fred grinned and tucked the booklet away. “I guess we don’t have to pick that right now.”

“No, we can table that decision,” Hermione agreed.

“And now, cake!” Fred declared, waving his wand and restacking the pile of samples and swatches. He set James on the counter and pulled the box of cake samples to him. “What do you think, Jamie?” he asked, pulling the top off of the box.

“Ooooo,” James said softly, reaching a chubby hand out for the closest piece.

“Not yet,” Hermione said, pulling the hand away. “We need to make sure we’re actually taking our time and tasting these, not just devouring twelve slices of cake in five minutes.”

“Leave it to you to put a rule on cake eating,” George said.

“I’m not putting-- nevermind. I just want us to taste each slice at the same time so we can make an informed decision.” Hermione eyed the labels stuck into each piece. “I can tell you right now, number five is out. No sane person makes their wedding cake out of carrot cake.”

“Here ya go, James. All yours, buddy.” Fred put the slice of carrot cake on a plate and set it in front of James, who eagerly grabbed a fistful and shoved it into his mouth.

While James happily ate the rejected slice, the twins and Hermione started in on the rest, each taking small bites and letting out small noises of satisfaction. At piece number eight, Fred started gagging and conjured a glass of water to immediately gulp down.

“Coconut,” he wheezed between gulps. “No coconut!”

Piece number nine though caused some bickering as they all fought for second and third bites.

“Oi! Stick to your side!” George cried, pushing Hermione’s fork away with his.

“This is my side!”

At that time, Ginny arrived and squeezed herself in. Conjuring her own fork, she said, “All right, what are we havin’?

“Go ahead, have this last bite,” Hermione urged, blocking the twins’ now dueling forks. Ginny snagged the cake and chewed thoughtfully. “What do you think?”

“Heavenly,” Ginny said, still chewing and savoring the cake. “What is it?”

“Almond cake with a hazelnut mousse filling,” Hermione answered.

“I don’t know. It’s good, but I think the lemon cake was better,” Fred said, pointing to the remains of slice four.

Ginny ate the last bit of that piece and shook her head. “Your taste buds are broken, Freddy.” She looked over at her son, covered in buttercream frosting and licking crumbs from his fingers. “What reject piece did you pawn off on the kid?”

“Carrot cake.”

“Good call.”

The final pieces of cake were good, but in the end, they all unanimously claimed the almond hazelnut cake the victor. Ginny gave her ‘best friend approval’ to the other designs, then took James home for a bath. Hermione sent an owl off with all their finalized choices while George put the final touches on the seating chart.

“Here, Min. Have a look at this.” George handed the parchment to Hermione.

Hermione glanced over the drawings of tiny, round tables and the names scrawled around them.

“Why did you put Muriel here?” Hermione asked, pointing to a front, corner table.

“If you try and put her in the back, she’ll raise hell. Put her front and center and you’ll make her feel too integral and she’ll get an inflated ego. Here,” George explained, pointing at the table. “she’s near the front, with family, which will satisfy that need for her. I put her with Bill and Percy because Bill is her favorite and Percy is constantly sucking up to her, so they get along great.”

“Wow, you really put some thought into all of this. It looks great. Thank you so much, George!”

“Anytime, love. Now, I’m going to take this little one upstairs because I believe I hear the pitter patter of mummy.”

Hermione kissed the soft curls on little Rory’s head and said goodbye to George. She turned her attention back to the parchment, scanning the familiar names. Her parents’ names were beside Molly and Arthur’s at the table right beside the head table. The names at the head table made her throat grow tight and a tear slip down her cheek.

“What’s wrong?” Fred asked.

Hermione laid the parchment down and pointed to Harry and Ron’s names next to her’s.

“Don’t worry,’ he whispered, running his hand through her hair. “They won’t be gone forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. All of the football talk is accurate to Birmingham City's 2003-2004 season. Pretty sure I broke my husband's heart, a diehard Liverpool fan, when he saw me looking up BCFC's stats and chants! I thought I would have Hermione's dad convert Fred to a Birmingham fan because IRL James Phelps is a Birmingham supporter. Also, points to anyone that catches the few pop culture references I threw into this chapter :D


	22. Chapter 22

May 2004

 

On May fourteenth, the entire Weasley/Granger clan gathered at The Burrow for the rehearsal dinner. Hermione was trying to remain calm. Her stomach was queasy and the fact that the officiant had canceled on the rehearsal at the last minute wasn’t helping. It was made worse by the fact that she hadn’t even met the man yet, as Fred had been the one to hire him.

“He’ll be here and ready tomorrow,” Fred assured, rubbing her back. “Are you feeling okay? You look a bit peaky.” He brought his hand up to her forehead.

Hermione brushed it away and nodded. “I promise, I’m fine. I’m just a bit anxious about everything coming together as we planned.”

Fred laughed and pulled her into a hug. “Darling, it’s us. Nothing ever goes as planned. But, it always ends perfectly.”

He placed a light kiss on her lips and she looked up. His brown eyes were sparkling with excitement and it gave her a sense of calm. No matter what happened the next day, at the end of it all, she would be married to this amazing man and that was all that mattered.

“Thank you,” she said, kissing him again. “I can’t wait to give you your gift tomorrow.”

Fred looked at her confusedly. “Wait, we’re supposed to get each other gifts?”

“No, but I couldn’t really say no to this one and I thought it would make a perfect wedding present.”

“Can I have it now?” Fred asked.

“Is it our wedding day?”

“Can I have it at midnight?” he persisted.

“Only if you want to be hexed by your sister.”

Fred groaned and Hermione sympathized. Ginny had talked Hermione into spending that evening at The Burrow with her. She insisted it would make the wedding day much more magical and special if Hermione and Fred didn’t see each other before the ceremony. Hermione had agreed, figuring it made sense, but she didn’t like the thought of spending the night, in a different bed, without Fred by her side.

“Fine, I’ll wait,” Fred said, with a pout.

They spent the next hour walking around the back garden, finalizing where the tent would be placed and chair placements for the ceremony. Hermione and Ginny coached Victoire on her flower girl duties, showing her how to slowly walk down the aisle and letting her practice throwing flower petals by giving her a bowl of dandelions to toss around.

Afterward, they all gathered around enlarged picnic tables, heaped with platters of food made by Molly and Magaret. A bottle of wine was passed around, but Hermione immediately handed it to Ginny when it came her way.

“You’re not having any?” Ginny questioned, pouring herself a generous glassful.

“I’d rather keep my senses clear for the next twenty-four hours,” Hermione explained, filling her glass with sparkling water.

Before anyone could start eating, Arthur stood up and clinked his fork against his glass, quieting the group and refocusing their attention.

“Tomorrow is going to be a special kind of crazy and I’m sure there will be much toasting of the happy couple,” Arthur began. Fred wrapped his arm around Hermione’s shoulder and smiled up at his father. Arthur cleared his throat and continued. “I wanted to take this opportunity to say a few words of my own. I was pondering on what I wanted to say last night and my instinct was to, of course, welcome Hermione to the family. But then I realized, I couldn’t do that.”

“Hermione, I’m sorry I cannot welcome you to the family tonight. You see, you were already part of this family long before knocking sense into our son. Molly and I have had the honor of watching both of you grow over the years, both individually and together.”

“Still waiting for Fred to catch up,” Ginny muttered, garnering laughter around the table.

Arthur smiled. “Fred, when you and your brother were young, your mother and I worried about many things. How long would Hogwarts put up with you? How many explosions could our house handle? Would we keep our sanity long enough to know the answer to those questions? One thing I never worried about, though, was what kind of man you would become. You’re kind and compassionate, and that is all I ever wanted for all of our children.”

“Hermione, I don’t think there are enough words to describe how wonderful we think you are. Or, at least, not enough patience at this table for me to list them all. You’ve both brought a new light to each other’s lives and we wish you all best as you start this new journey.” Arthur raised his glass and said, “To Hermione and Fred!”

“Cheers!” were shouted around the table as Hermione rushed over to Arthur, with tears in her eyes, and hugged him tightly

The evening was pleasant and full of lots of reminiscing, resulting in a lot of laughing and cringing. When the sunlight started to wane, the group began to thin as kids’ eyelids drooped and the empty wine bottles outnumbered the full. When Hermione let a yawn slip and snuggled further into Fred’s side, Ginny pounced and declared that the bride needed her rest.

“Okay,” Hermione said, stifling another yawn. “Let me say goodnight to Fred.”

She let Fred lead her to a secluded, shadowed corner of the garden. He didn’t even have a chance to say anything before Hermione pulled him close and locked her lips to his. And she was quite happy to let him push her up against the house and deepen the kiss. As his mouth moved to her neck, his hands moved to her hips and his nimble fingers started inching her skirt up.

“Fred, we can’t do this here,” Hermione breathed. Despite her protests, she thrusted her hips against his touch.

“I really, really want to though,” he murmured, biting her earlobe. The noise that slipped from her throat was one she had never heard herself make before and the rumble from Fred’s laugh sent a shiver through her body. “I think you really, really want to too.”

“I do. Merlin, do I ever. But if your mother finds us in this position, we may not live to get married. And if Gin finds us, oh god, if Gin finds us…” Hermione trailed off as Fred hooked a finger on the waistband of her knickers.

Ten minutes later, they took turns creeping from their hiding spot and tried to blend in with the cleanup. As Hermione turned around with a stack of plates, she came face to face with Ginny, who reached up and plucked something from Hermione’s hair.

“You two are unbelievable,” Ginny sighed, dropping an ivy leaf onto the stack of plates.

Hermione felt her face grow red and said nothing as she hurried to the kitchen with the plates.

 

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

 

The following morning, Hermione was awoken by an incessant poking at her side. She grumbled and buried her head under the pillow.

“Get up, Min! We’re wasting time!?” Ginny shouted. She tried to pull the pillow away, but Hermione clung tighter.

“What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty.”

Hermione moaned. “I’m not getting married until three o’clock. Let me sleep.”

“Nope, wakey wakey.” Ginny gave a firm pull and finally won the tug-a-war battle for the pillow. “You need to eat and shower so we can start pampering the shit out of you.”

“Can part of my pampering be sleep?” Hermione whined, rolling onto her back.

The sudden change in position sent her stomach rolling and, in spite of all her previous protests, she jumped from the bed and dashed for the bathroom. Thankfully, it was nothing more than some intense dry heaving. When she left the loo, Ginny was in the hall with a worried look.

“I’m fine,” Hermione said before Ginny could ask. “I guess I’m more nervous than I thought. I’ll be much better once I get some food in me.”

Ginny smiled and linked her arm with Hermione’s. “Good, cause mum has been cooking up a storm for the last hour.”

In the kitchen, Molly had something cooking on every burner and multiple trays in the oven. The scrubbed oak table was piled with platters of scones, bacon, sausage, toast, beans, and eggs of every variety. Steaming carafes of tea and coffee sat beside a cold pitcher of fresh squeezed orange juice. Hermione wanted to eat all of it and nothing at the same time.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” her mother greeted. She was sitting beside James, who was in his high chair and focused on pulverizing a scone with his spoon.

“Sit down and eat, dear,” Molly instructed, spooning more scrambled eggs into a bowl. “Nobody goes about with an empty stomach today. Ginny, would you take this tray to Fred. Merlin only knows if that boy will eat without Min there.”

Hermione smiled, knowing that was true. She knew that when Fred woke up he’d be too preoccupied with everything else going on that he’d neglect a proper meal. She was also pretty sure that Ginny would get there and Fred would still be asleep. Lucky git…

Knowing that declining food was not an option that day, Hermione spread some butter and jam on two pieces of toast and poured a glass of juice. At the insistence of her mother to have some protein, she conceded to letting two sausages being dropped onto her plate. Hermione’s face paled at the offer of eggs and she resolutely refused them.

Ginny returned with an empty tray and horrified look. Hermione could only guess at what she had to do to get Fred out of bed and, judging by the look on her face, he wasn’t in the most decent of states.

“Next time, send one of the guys to do that,” Ginny muttered, tossing the tray onto the counter. She sat down next to Hermione and shook her head, as if, like an Etch-A-Sketch, the imprinted images would disappear. “Okay, once you’re done with breakfast, head straight to the shower. Fleur will be here shortly and we have a pre-wedding pampering list set.”

“What all is on your list?” Hermione asked, hesitantly.

“First, we need to sort out your eyebrows,” Ginny said and Hermione instinctively ran a finger over her brows and frowned. “Then it’s a facial, manicures, pedicures, waxing--”

Hermione choked on a bite of toast and started coughing. “I draw the line at waxing, she wheezed. “I couldn’t sit properly for a week after I tested that Wonder Witch Miracle Wax Fred and George made.”

“Do you really think we’d wax you with something from a joke shop?” Ginny said as she Tergeoed the crumbs from James’ tray. “We have something much nicer.”

“How about we see how it is on my legs and then go from there?” Hermione suggested.

“Deal. Now, hurry up and eat.”

“Don’t you rush her,” Molly scolded. “Let her take her time. The last thing we want today is an overstuffed and sick bride.”

Ginny let out a heavy sigh and sank back in her chair. Hermione chuckled and patted her friend’s shoulder. It didn’t take her very long to finish her breakfast, and she didn’t argue when Ginny shooed her to the shower.

By the time Hermione returned to the table for a late lunch, her body had been plucked, scrubbed, and waxed until it shined. Her finger and toenails had been painted a pale, rose gold color. Her curls had been pulled back into what Fleur called a ‘messy, but elegant’ bun, with a few curly tendrils, left loose to frame her face. In lieu of a veil, Hermione had decided to wear Aunt Muriel’s Goblin-made tiara. She hoped that by making that her sole headpiece, it might keep her in Muriel’s good graces. After all these years, the old woman still managed to slip in offhand remarks about Hermione being Muggle-born.

Hermione sat at the table, wrapped in a white, silk bathrobe, nibbling on a turkey sandwich. Ginny was beside her, checking items off a long list of items, while Magaret sat across, holding James in her lap.

“I think the only things left for you are your makeup and dress. My dad, your dad, Bill, and Charlie are helping set up the tent. Mum is hovering over the caterers. Fred and George have arrived--”

“They did?” Hermione interrupted.

“Yes, but they are banished to the top floor and you’re forbidden from it. You got your pre-wedding shag last night.” Across the table, Hermione’s mother raised her eyebrows and Hermione’s cheeks grew hot. Ginny continued checking things from her list. “The flowers arrived and are in the living room. Guests should be arriving in about an hour and we should be good to have you walking down the aisle at three o’clock, on the dot.”

“What about the officiant?” Hermione asked. “Is he here yet?”

Ginny looked up from her list and shrugged. “I don’t think so. I asked Fred when I saw him earlier, and he said not to worry. Usually, when he says that, I worry.”

Hermione stood up and started for the steps. “I need to go make sure this person is actually coming. They’re kind of an important part of the ceremony.”

“Stop right there, Granger,” Ginny ordered. “I really don’t want to put a body-bind curse on you today. I have to go up to shower and get dressed. I will check in with Fred when I go up.”

“Make sure you knock,” Hermione warned.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make that mistake again. Go, sit and relax. Everything is being taken care of and going just as planned.”

Hermione nodded and sat back down to finish her sandwich. When Ginny went to go get ready, Magaret passed James to Hermione so that she could go change into her dress. As Magaret made her way up the stairs, to Molly and Arthur’s room, Victoire came bounding down in her frilly, white flower girl dress.

“Look, Auntie Min!” she said and twirled around so that the dress billowed out around her.

“Wow! You look so pretty,” Hermione said.

“Thank you! Mummy told me to come down and wait wif you while she put her dwess on and I’m not awoud to step one toe outside,” Victoire said, matter-of-factly.

“I bet she doesn’t want to you get your new dress dirty before the ceremony.”

“No, she says it’s because I’ll chase the chickens.”

“Will you chase the chickens?” Hermione asked.

“Yes.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise at the child’s honesty.

“How about we go have a look at the flowers,” Hermione suggested, guiding the little girl towards the living room.

The flowers excited Victoire and she went about inspecting each bouquet and boutonniere. Hermione set James down and he immediately toddled to the window. The chickens had been relocated to the front garden for the weekend and James watched them intently.

“Which one is mine?” Victoire asked.

“You get this basket full of petals to toss as you walk up the aisle. And I thought we might put a few of these loose flowers in your hair.”

Hermione started tucking some of the smaller roses into Victoire’s hair as James started smacking the window, yelling, “Da! Da!” Hermione softly laughed. “No, chickens. Remember, kee-kins,” she said, using the babble word that James had started using weeks ago for the birds.

“Da! Da!”

Hermione turned away from Victoire’s hair to see if James had left the window and was looking at pictures, but he wasn’t. He was still at the window, bouncing and smacking it excitedly.

Hermione scooped him up and said, “What do you see that makes you think Dada?” She gazed out the window at the chickens milling around in the pen, none acting out of the ordinary. She was about to turn back to Victoire when she saw two figures making their way up the drive. Their hair was long and shaggy, but there was no mistaking who was under those unkempt mops.

“Ginny!” Hermione screamed, rushing for the door. “Fred! Molly!” She didn’t take much notice of the names she shouted out as she flung open the door and ran outside. The sound of Victoire squealing, “Chickens!” vaguely registered in her brain, but she didn’t stop the girl. She was consumed by only one thought at the moment.

Her best friends were home.

Running full tilt, in bare feet, Hermione slammed into Harry, sandwiching James in between them. She hugged him tight before letting go and throwing herself at Ron.

“Hey, Min!” Ron said.

“I can’t believe you’re back!” she cried. Taking a small step back, she wiped her eyes and stared at them in awe. Unable to help herself, she threw her arms around Harry again.

“Hi,” Harry laughed. “You don’t know how good it is to see you!”

“Trust me, I know exactly how good it is.”

“Hermione?!” Ginny’s voice shouted from the house. The three looked towards the door and watched as Fred and Ginny fought to get through the door. “Let me out, Fred! She has James!”

Hermione cringed as Ginny grabbed Fred by his lapels and threw him back into the house, before sprinting into the yard.

“Hermione! What’s wrong? Where’s--Harry?” The redhead froze and the smile on Harry’s face grew. “Harry!”

“Ginny,” Harry said, saying her name as if he was letting go of a breath he had been holding for far too long.

The distance between them was closed in a nanosecond as Ginny leaped onto Harry. He effortlessly caught her and she proceeded to pepper every inch of his face in kisses. “Two damn years is too damn long!” She stopped kissing him and gave his cheek a playful slap. “Never do that to me again!”

“Never again,” Harry promised.

“Why are you wearing Aunt Muriel’s tiara?” Ron asked suddenly.

Hermione hugged him again, saying, “You boys have impeccable timing.”

“Hey! You’ve got your hands all over the wrong Weasley!”

Hermione looked back and saw Fred had recovered and was jogging down the lawn to them.

“What Weasley should she have her hands on?” Ron asked skeptically.

“Me, of course,” Fred answered. He reached the group and hugged his little brother, then reached over to pat Harry on the back, as Ginny was reluctant to let her newly returned fiance out of her grasp.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to see each other!” Ginny said, pointing an accusatory finger at Fred and Hermione.

“Well, I’m sorry. But when I heard my fiance screaming bloody murder, I wanted to make sure we were still having a wedding and not a funeral,” Fred said, exasperated.

“Always so dramatic,” Hermione sighed.

“Fiance? Someone want to fill us in?” Harry said, looking at Fred and Hermione.

They didn’t get the chance because at that moment Molly came around to the front, calling, ”What is all the screaming about? And who let Victoire at the chickens?”

“Hey, Mum!” Ron greeted, waving at Molly.

It was Molly’s turn to freeze and stare at the motley crew in her front garden.

“Arthur!”

Hermione stepped back, clearing the path as Molly bustled past. Ginny reluctantly climbed off of Harry as her mother fussed over the two men. Of course, Molly’s scream brought the rest of the family running. When Arthur reached the group, he slowed, clutching his chest.

“Merlin, Molly! My ticker can’t take handle this today,” he breathed as he hugged his youngest son. “Good to have you back.”

“Thanks, dad. I feel like we’ve interrupted a pretty fancy party though.”

“You haven’t interrupted anything!” Hermione insisted. “This is the best wedding gift we could possibly receive.” She beamed at Ron and had to exercise much self-restraint not to giddily bounce around like a child.

“So, you are getting married?” Harry asked.

Hermione nodded.

“To him?” Harry pointed to Fred.

“Oi, him? I have a name, ya know?” Fred groused.

“Are you marrying him because of the baby?” Ron asked

Hermione blanched for a second before remembering she was holding James.

“In what universe do Hermione and I produce a kid that looks like this?” Fred said, putting his hand on his hips.

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and grinned at Ginny as she passed James into her waiting arms.

“You left behind more than you thought,” Ginny said said softly, holding James up to Harry. “This is James Arthur Potter.”

Harry stared silently at James, then looked up at Ginny. “He’s ours?” Ginny nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. Harry slowly raised his arms up and James pushed away from Ginny and fell into his father’s grasp for the first time.

“Da!” James yelled, pulling Harry’s glasses off.

Harry transferred James to one arm and wrapped Ginny up in his other. “I’m so sorry, Gin,” he mumbled into her hair. “I’m sorry for leaving you and letting you do all of this on your own.”

Ginny pulled back and gave him a quizzical look. “What makes you think I did anything alone? You haven’t completely forgotten what family I belong to, have you?”

Harry gazed out at the group surrounding him and Hermione saw his cheeks flush.

“You lost the bet. You owe me five galleons,” Fred said, nudging Hermione with his hip.

“What bet?” Harry and Ginny asked in unison.

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. “I may have made a bet with Fred, like a _year ago_ , that Harry would faint when he found out he had a son.”

“And we put no time limit on that bet, so pay up Granger,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Where exactly do you think I’m hiding five galleons at the moment?”

“I’d like to have a look and see,” he said, reaching for the belt of her robe.

Hermione felt her face grow hot as she batted his hand away.

“This is weird,” Ron muttered. “Mum, I’m hungry. Anything good in the kitchen?”

One of her children declaring starvation was enough to snap Molly Weasley back to the activities of the day.

“Yes, yes, of course! Let’s not waste time standing around. There’s still lots to do and now haircuts have been added to the list. Someone, please get Victoire away from the chickens. Arthur, is the tent ready?” Molly continued rattling off instructions and questions as she hurried to the house.

“I guess I need to find some decent clothes,” Harry said, prying his glasses from James’ grasp. “I can’t show up to your wedding in ripped trousers and a questionably clean t-shirt.”

“I don’t care if you show up in a burlap sack. I’m just happy you're here for it!”

Harry started following Ginny to the house, but then stopped and backed up a few paces. He leaned down to Hermione and asked, “You did agree to this, right? You’re not under some effect of one of their pranks?”

“Honestly? Are we that unbelievable as a couple?” Fred cried, throwing his hands in the air. “Just wait and see how I am at your wedding, Potter. I’m going to go finish getting dressed,” he huffed.

“Fred, wait!” Hermione said suddenly, grabbing his hand before he could retreat to the house. “You just gave me an idea!”

“Does this idea include our secluded corner?” Fred asked, reaching for her belt again. “Cause if so, I approve of your idea.”

“No, listen.” Fred put on a mock pout as Hermione leaned in and started whispering in his ear. In the end, she leaned back and stared at him, waiting for his reaction. “Well? What do you think?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s a great idea. You think they’ll go for it?”

“I’m not one-hundred percent certain, but I’m thinking there’s a good chance,” Hermione insisted.

“And you’re okay with it?” Fred asked and Hermione nodded in affirmation. “Okay, then let’s do it. I’ll have George go to--”

“No! I do not trust him alone in our bedroom. You go, please. And I’ll send Fleur to theirs.”

Fred leaned down to kiss her but was interrupted by a shrill whistle. They both looked towards the door to find Ginny glaring at them.

“Back to your designated areas,” she ordered.

Hermione groaned and Fred wrapped an arm around her shoulder to walk her inside.

“I’ll see you soon,” he whispered, sneaking in a small kiss below her ear.

 

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

 

Hermione slowly walked down the staircase, with Ginny behind her to hold up the train of her dress. When she reached the kitchen, she was met with the four sets of teary eyes.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Jonathan said, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Thank you, Dad,” Hermione whispered. She took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry and smudge all the work Fleur had put into her makeup.

“We’re all ready when you are,” Ginny said, handing Hermione her bouquet of roses.

She nodded and smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her dress. With a deep, steadying breath, she said, “Ready.”

Arthur led Molly out the door and her mother was met by Lee, to escort her to her chair. Ginny helped guide James and Victoire out. Victoire started to sprinkle the flower petals over James’ head and had to be reminded to wait until she was walking down the aisle, and then to only sprinkle them on the ground.

The parents disappeared into the tent and a minute later orchestral music started playing. Ginny opened the curtain and nudged James through. His cry of “Da!” elicited a chorus of “Aww!” from the guests. James must have run straight to the front because it was less than a minute later and Ginny was waving Victoire through. Giggling filled the tent and Hermione was sure that Victoire was putting on quite a show during her moment in the spotlight. Then it was Ginny’s turn. She gave Hermione a thumbs up and slipped through the curtain.

Hermione stepped forward with Jonathan and linked her arm through his. As the music faded and the first chords of the Bridal March started, her father gave her hand a reassuring pat and the tent curtains were magically pulled aside.

She was aware of all the guests rising to their feet, but if asked to distinguish any of them, she’d find the task impossible. The only thing she could focus on was the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Fred’s childlike grin relaxed her more than any amount of pampering could and she had the sudden urge to run down the aisle, dragging her father behind her.

She didn’t run of course. She kept her composure and strode gracefully down the aisle, just as Ginny had had her practice a hundred times the day before. It felt like an eternity before she reached the end and her father placed her hands in Fred’s.

“Welcome, friends and family.”

Hermione’s head whipped up at the familiar voice. At the officiant’s position stood George, bedecked in pristine, white dress robes with a gold stole hanging off his shoulders. Lee stood behind Fred as Best Man.

“What the hell are you doing?” Hermione cried, forgetting about the tent full of wedding guests for the moment.

“Hermione, please! I’m kind of in the middle of something,” George said in a loud whisper.

“But, how? What--”

“As I was saying,” George said, speaking over Hermione’s confused stutters and the guests’ laughter. He continued, “Welcome to the union of Hermione Granger and Forge Weasley.”

Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head. She really shouldn’t be surprised by this.

“For those that knew these two in school, their pairing may seem quite out of place- the girl that followed all the rules and the boy hellbent on breaking them all. But for those of us that have watched them for the last two years, we can’t imagine them with anyone else. Trust me when I tell you, it wasn’t easy to get them together in the first place. Watching them dance around their feelings was agonizing. But it was worth it to see my brother with someone that made him truly happy, even if I lost the bet.”

Fred and Hermione looked up at George and said, “What bet?”

George ignored the question. “If I am not mistaken, I believe the couple has chosen to say their own vows. Hermione, when you’re ready.”

Hermione cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and began.

“Fred, I feel like I’ve loved you forever.”

“Because you have,” Fred whispered.

Hermione grinned and squeezed his hands, then continued, “Two years ago, I never imagined that hanging around a joke shop, trying to fill the void left my two best friends, would lead us to this. Since then, you have painted me yellow, turned my hair orange, gotten horrible songs stuck in my head, and rendered me mute for a day. But most importantly, you have loved me. You have loved me when I’m stubborn and bossy and just a hot mess. You have brought a balance to my life that I never knew I needed or wanted. When I’m down, you lift me up. When I get wound up, you calm me down. Everyone says that you should marry your best friend and today I get to do just that. I love you, Fred Weasley, and look forward to many more adventures with you.”

Fred beamed down at her and took his own steadying breath before starting his vows.

“Hermione, I could have a thesaurus right now, read out a thousand synonyms for amazing, and I wouldn’t come close to describing what you are. Somehow, you have endured all those things and are still by my side. The fact that you’ve been able to laugh with me through it all makes me the luckiest man in the world. You have lit up my world in ways I never thought possible and I want to spend the rest of my life lighting up yours.”

Hermione squeezed his hands again and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispered back.

“Now, join your right hands and we will start the Unbreakable Vow ritual,” George. Hermione let go of Fred’s hands and smacked George with her bouquet, but he just grinned and waved her off. “The rings, my good man,” he said, nodding to Lee.

“Best man,” Lee corrected, pulling two gold bands from his inside pocket and handing them to Fred.

“I stand by my original statement,” George quipped. Fred rolled his eyes as he passed his ring to Hermione. “Fred Gideon Weasley, do you take Hermione to be your wife? Do you promise to love, honor, and protect her, forsaking all others, until death do you part?”

“I do,” Fred said, sliding the thinner of the gold rings onto Hermione’s finger.

“Hermione Jean Granger, do you take Fred to be your husband? Do you promise to love, honor and protect him, forsaking all others, until death do you part?”

“I do,” Hermione proclaimed, placing her gold band onto Fred’s finger.

Once both rings were in place, they began to glow and emit golden rays of light that wrapped around Fred and Hermione’s hands and wrists.

“Let these rings be a symbol of your unending love for one another. By the powers, somehow, vested in me, I declare you bonded for life.”

At those words, the glow of the bonds shined brighter until a final burst of light sent a shower of gold stars raining over Fred and Hermione.

“Go on, then,” George said, nudging Fred with his elbow. “Kiss your wife.”

“Been waiting all day for this,” Fred said. He bent down to Hermione and when she wrapped her arms around his neck, he lifted her up and covered her lips with his. He didn’t let go until several guests let out wolf-whistles.

Hand in hand, Fred and Hermione turned around to find all the guests on their feet, clapping and cheering. As they started up the aisle, their guests tossed folded up pieces of parchment into the air, causing the pair to stop and watch in curiosity. The parchments started to fall when, suddenly, they burst into a cascade of red and white rose shaped confetti.

Hermione laughed and looked up at Fred. “You’re just full of surprises today, aren’t you?”

“This wasn’t me,” he said, holding out his hand to catch some confetti. They looked back to a grinning George. “Looks like we might be branching out into wedding supplies.”

As they continued their way up the aisle, George announced, “The bride and groom would like everyone to remain in their seats as they prepare for phase two.”

Outside the tent, Fred and Hermione were assaulted with hugs and handshakes from Ginny and Lee. George joined them shortly after, with Fleur, Ron, and Harry following.

"How did you like the confetti?" George asked hugging Fred tightly. "Fold it different ways to get different shapes and color combinations.

"It's brilliant," Fred said, thumping his twin on the back. "They'll be sure to fly off the shelves."

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, shifting James from one hip to another. “I thought we’re supposed to stay sitting.”

“Fred will fill you in,” Hermione said, grabbing Ginny’s hand and pulling her to the house. “We’ll see you in a few.”

“Hermione!” Ginny yelped, stumbling as she tried to keep up, with Fleur following. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” Hermione led Ginny upstairs, to Molly and Arthur’s bedroom.

“You just ran out on your own wedding,” Ginny puffed, brushing hair from her face.

“It’s not just my wedding,” Hermione said, opening Molly’s wardrobe to reveal Ginny’s wedding dress.

“What…?” Ginny whispered, walking over to the dress and running her fingers over the beaded bodice. “Why is this here?”

“You’ve been waiting over two years to marry Harry. I think it’s about time you finally got your wish.”

“I can’t, Min. It’s your wedding day--”

“And we want to share it with you and Harry,” Hermione insisted. “I understand if you don’t want to, but if you say yes, Fleur and I are ready to be your bridesmaids.”

Fleur held up the lavender gowns they had purchased in preparation for Harry and Ginny’s original wedding, saying, “And I know Victoire will be more than happy to reprise her role as flower girl.”

Ginny looked at the dresses and then to Fleur and Hermione. “Are you sure?” Hermione nodded. “And Fred’s okay with this?”

“Absolutely.” As if on cue, the sound of pebbles clinking against glass drew her attention to the window.

“Min!” Fred called from outside, tossing another pebble.

“Before my husband breaks the window, what do you say Gin?”

Ginny grinned and nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Hermione let out an excited squeal and hurried to the window. She opened it just as Fred chucked another stone and it bounced off her forehead.

“We haven’t even been married ten minutes and you’re pelting me with rocks?” she shouted.

“Sorry, I love you! What’s the status of phase two?”

“We’re a go,” Hermione said, giving him a thumbs up.

“Right, let’s go, Potter!” Fred called, herding Harry and Ron into the house.

 

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

 

Twenty minutes later, Hermione was slowly walking back up the aisle. She had swapped her roses for a bouquet of lilies that Molly had hastily clipped from her garden. This time Ron, Neville, and a confunded looking Harry were waiting at the end. George was back in the officiant’s place, and Fred was sitting in the front row next to Molly, helping her hold James back from tackling his father.

When Ginny appeared at the end of the aisle, Harry’s face lit up. As Arthur escorted her to the front, Harry looked like a toddler, awaiting permission to rip into his Christmas presents. With a sniffle and watery eyes, Arthur hugged Harry tightly before placing Ginny’s hand in his.

“Hello, again, friends and family,” George started. “We are gathered, still, to take part in a wedding that has been literally years in the making. I think we’ve all seen since day coming for over a decade, though. The moment Ginny laid eyes on Harry, at the train station, she was head over heels for the boy. Anyone that knows Ginny knows that once she sets her mind on something, she won’t rest until she’s gotten what she wants. And so here we are. Now, would you two like to take a chance with my ill-prepared vows, or say your own?”

“I think we’ll wing it and say our own, thanks,” Harry said. Hermione stifled a giggle as Harry cringed at the thought of George’s unrehearsed vows.

“As you wish,” George said, motioning at Harry to proceed.

“Um, I don’t really know where to start,” Harry weakly laughed, raking a hand through his hair. “This has got to be the most surreal day of my life and, honestly, that’s saying something. Last night I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, contemplating murder if I had to go much longer listening to your brother’s snoring. Today, I have a son and get to marry the love of my life, surrounded by all of my favorite people. If this is a dream, then no one is ever allowed to wake me up. Ginny, I love you so much and I promise, I’ll never leave you and James again.”

Ginny wiped her eyes and breathed in a steadying breath before beginning her vows.

“Harry, in one way or another, I have loved you my entire life. I was in awe of you growing up, and always wondered what it would be like to meet you, never believing you’d one day be my friend, let alone my husband. I’ve waited two years for this day and I would wait for another two because you are worth the wait, Harry Potter.”

“Lovely,” George said. “Would you like to hear the vows I had prepared?”

“No!” Harry and Ginny insisted, in unison.  
  
“Your loss,” George sighed. “Ronnikins, the rings please.”

“So good to be back,” Ron muttered, passing two platinum bands to Harry.

“Harry James Potter, do you take Ginevra to be your wife? Do you promise to love, honor, and protect her, forsaking all others, until death do you part?”

“I do,” Harry said, sliding the band onto Ginny’s finger.

“And do you also acknowledge that should you hurt our little sister, you’ll disappear for more than two years?” Harry’s eyes went wide and he recoiled slightly. Ginny and Hermione reached out and smacked George with their bouquets. “Alright, alright! Stop assaulting me with flowers!”

George straightened his stole and cleared his throat. “Ginevra Molly Weasley, do you take Harry to be your husband? Do you promise to love, honor, and protect him, forsaking all others, until death do you part?”

“I do,” Ginny said, slipping the second ring onto Harry's finger.  
  
As the second band slid into place, both bands lit up with a blindingly silver light that wrapped around their hands and wrists. When George pronounced them officially husband and wife, the light burst into thousands of shimmering hearts that rained down on them.

As Harry cupped Ginny’s face in his hands and brought her lips to his, George announced, “I am honored to present to you all, for the very first time, Harry and Ginny Potter!” and as they proceeded up the aisle, the guests engulfed them with confetti of tiny, fluttering Snitches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're back! I hope their return met expectations. I know everyone was waiting (somewhat) patiently for it and I'm sorry for the slow burn, but I had this fluffy, just-in-time reunion planned since the beginning and was looking forward to it as much as all of you! 
> 
> I want to give a shout out to Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum. She's a fellow writer in the Potterotica Facebook group (a hilarious podcast you should check out!) and was the inspiration behind the confetti idea. Go check out some of her stories, she has an especially fun one that pairs Snape and Tonks!
> 
> One more chapter to go!


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